


Adventures In Interstellar Commerce

by provetheworst, softlyforgotten



Category: Bandom, Phantom Planet, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 125,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provetheworst/pseuds/provetheworst, https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein our heroes, Messrs Greenwald and Ross, partake in a sweeping journey through space, fraught with peril and misunderstandings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ryan knows, logically, that wandering off ten minutes before a press conference isn't a good idea. He's bored, though, and everybody's going to want to know what he thinks of the shiny new dock, and he's going to have to pretend like he's _seen_ the dock beyond pictures and the briefest tour of all time. It's not that hard to justify heading off, with a hat and sunglasses on. He's hoping he's not too recognisable, even with his sword.

"Excuse me," someone says. "Um. Your Highness?"

Ryan turns with a sigh. "Yeah," he says. "Sorry. I guess I should head back now, huh?"

The speaker blinks at him, and Ryan tilts his head to the side. He doesn't recognise the guy, which doesn't happen very often, at least not when he's at home in the capital.

"Oh, hi," he says. "I don't know you."

"I'm Captain Alex Greenwald," the guy says, moving as though he's about to shake Ryan's hand and then looking like he thinks better of it. Ryan doesn't mind people shaking his hand, although Spencer's been a bit more protective of him doing it since that one time with the guy who had a poison dart hidden in his sleeve.

"Nice to meet you," Ryan says. "Can I help you with something?"

"Actually, my ship's just boarded for the afternoon," Alex says. "And we need – under that new law, we need royal approval? For our diplomatic missions, you know."

"There's a law that says that?" Ryan stares. "Really? Man, we're uptight."

Alex laughs, looking surprised and a little nervous. "Um, yeah. I have the paperwork—"

"Lead on," Ryan says. "I'm avoiding my advisers."

"Oh," Alex says. "Should we wait…?"

"No, they can wait," Ryan says. "It's not like I'm running off to get married or something."

Alex stares for a moment and then laughs. "No," he says. "Okay, then. It's just down here."

Alex's ship is pretty rundown. The buffer panels look dented and it's a little scorched, like its shielding isn't working properly, but Ryan doesn't say anything. Mostly he gets flown around on state of the art crafts; it probably isn't polite to look down on something that could be a common standard.

Onboard, there's a girl with short blonde hair and a guy with dark hair conversing nervously.

"This is my pilot, Z Berg," Alex says, nodding at her. "And our mechanic, Darren Robinson. Um, guys, Prince Ryan Ross."

"Hi," Ryan says, waving a little. "So what do you need?"

"If you'll follow me," Alex says, and guides him up through the bridge into the tiny little control room. Ryan's not really sure what he's meant to be looking at, but he thinks it's probably a bad idea for him to admit that. He can fly a ship, but it's been a long time.

Then Alex says, "Anyway, if you wanted to just go for a wander, and ascertain everything's to standard, and then we just need your signature and we'll let you get back to everything, Your Highness."

"Right," Ryan says, "no worries."

He's the prince of seven star systems. He can totally handle inspecting a ship.

\---

It's a little embarrassing when he manages to accidentally lock himself in one of the spare rooms.

It's a little worse when he hears the ship take off.

\---

Alex comes back nearly two hours later, when Ryan's given up on knocking and yelling and asking someone to come let him out. There are a couple of old newspapers from different planets, so he settles down, until Alex opens the door and stares at him.

"Oh my god," he says. "What are you doing here? Uh, Your Highness."

"I think I locked myself in," Ryan says, making a face.

"I thought you'd left," Alex says.

Ryan frowns. "Without signing your documents?"

Alex shrugs. "I don't know. You said you were meeting your advisers."

"Oh, shit," Ryan says.

Alex fidgets a little and then says, "Your Highness, um. We're on a mission right now, and we're kind of – this job is time-critical and really important, we can't turn back. We're already an hour out of the capital."

Ryan just kind of nods, because he suspected such a thing might happen, really. That is why he was hoping they would turn back earlier. Or even notice that he was onboard, that would have been nice. "Right," Ryan says, understandingly. "How long do you think it will take?"

Alex shrugs, still looking uncomfortable. "A while, there are a few places we need to go and it's hard to say how long we'll need to stop at any of them." He bites his lip. "Maybe we could drop you off at one of the planets and you could have someone pick you up from there?

"All right," Ryan says with a shrug, because it's not like he's got much choice, here. He's kind of secretly pleased, anyway. He really wasn't looking forward to that press conference. "I should probably try and get in contact with Spencer, though. I think they might be worried about me."

"Yeah?" Alex says.

"I'm the prince and all," Ryan says. He gives Alex a dazzling grin, which really just makes him look a little bewildered and mildly psychopathic – he's seen it on enough magazine covers to know – but it makes Alex laugh all the same.

"Yeah, well," he says. "We're passing through some static interference just now, but I'll let you know when we get through? And like, you can just. Do whatever. Are you hungry?"

"I'm okay," Ryan says.

\---

Alex comes back again a while later, looking apologetic. "Yeah, I don't know what he was doing, but Jeff was trying to fix the communications - I _told_ him not to go near that again, but you know how these things always go. Anyway, looks like it's out of commission until we get some parts."

"Oh," Ryan says. "Well, we can't detour to another planet or anything and get the parts? Or call them from there?"

"Time-sensitive delivery." Alex shrugs. "We might be able to get what we need there, though."

"Oh, well that's good," Ryan nods. "So what's it, what's it like?"

Alex blinks at him, mildly suspicious. "What?"

"Getting to travel all the time," Ryan says, a little wistful. He always wanted to be a trader, or maybe a space pirate, something very romantic and exciting instead of being a prince.

Alex laughs.

"I mean," Ryan says. "You get to see a lot of interesting places, right, and you don't have to worry about diplomacy or anything. Or – you said diplomatic missions, right? But I bet you don't have to worry as much as me."

"Dude," Alex says. "You have no idea." He launches into this whole big story about how they hadn't properly researched etiquette on some alien world and managed to offend the hell out of everyone they met and ended up getting chased down with guns and shit, only barely making it out alive, but with a lot more money than they were supposed to have because of another whole convoluted chain of events, and Ryan just leans against the wall and listens raptly.

 _Ryan_ wants to have crazy space adventures.

\---

A sort of hush falls when Alex leads Ryan into the dining room that night, Ryan listening with bright eyes as Alex waves his hands around illustrating some point in a never ending story.

"Um, Alex," Darren says.

"Hey," Alex says cheerfully. "Everyone knows Prince Ross, right? Your highness, this is everyone--"

"Hi," Ryan says, giving them a little wave. He hasn't quite worked out a way to be like, 'call me Ryan' to Alex just yet, even though Alex doesn't seem to have a problem with laughing and telling him to shut up or calling him dude or whatever. Alex is weirdly nice. Ryan's not sure the last time he met someone who wasn't scared of him. It would be cool to drop the titles.

He wonders if he's breaking some etiquette by not calling Alex 'Captain Greenwald' or whatever his official title is. He settles for not worrying about it just yet, smiling at the table a little awkwardly and saying, "Thanks for letting me steal one of your rooms, I hope I'm not putting anyone out."

"Um," Darren says again.

"No, you're fine," Z says. She kicks out a seat next to the one Alex has sat down in. "Take a seat, Highness."

"Thanks," Ryan says, ducking his head shyly. "The food looks good, hey."

"We cook it ourselves," a smiling girl says. "There's a roster."

"Nice," Ryan says, nodding a little.

"Oh," Alex says. "You should – you know Z and Darren, but that's Tennessee—" he points to the girl who just spoke, "—and Sam, Annie, Laena, and Jeff."

"Hi," Ryan says, waving. "Nice to meet you all. Shame about the communications system."

"What?" Jeff says. "I fixed it yesterday."

" _Tried_ to," Alex says, brusquely. "Which I thought I told you, you're not supposed to? Because you messed it up again."

"Really?" Jeff asks, puzzled.

"Really," Z says. "Honestly, Jeff."

"Since I'm here and using up your food," Ryan starts, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. He glances at everyone, trying to remember to make everyone feel included in this address - not that it's really an address - "Is there anything I should be doing, to repay your hospitality? I am very good at fencing and making cucumber sandwiches."

"Yes, fencing," Darren says. "That's going to help onboard ship."

"It could be useful," Ryan says, vaguely - but not quite - offended. "If the ship was to encounter danger along the way, and was boarded. Or if the ship had to make an emergency landing on some obscure, uninhabited moon infested with fell beasts."

" _Fell beasts,_ " Jeff says. "We run into those a lot."

"See?" Ryan says. "And I could defend you!"

Ryan does, in fact, have his sword with him. It's mostly ceremonial, and the blade is _kind of_ dull, but not overly so. He could use it if he had to.

"You don't -- slay people or anything, do you?" Tennessee asks, a little nervously.

"Well, I haven't," Ryan says. "I should think I'd be allowed to, though, if they were threatening, you know, life and livelihood, bla bla bla." He waves his hand and Alex ducks his head to hide his smile while the rest of the table looks a little nervous. Then Ryan admits, "I'm not sure I'd be very good at that, though. I lose at fencing competitions all the time."

"Oh," Jeff says. "Pity."

"Yeah." Ryan shrugs. "You'd think it would be just the same with people, but, you know. Apparently not."

"Life is full of surprises," Alex says wisely.

"Hey," Ryan says, turning to him and raising his eyebrows. "You didn't finish the story about when you got mistaken for cannibals on that planet."

"Oh," Alex says, and continues with it.

They spend most of the night sitting around the table. Alex plays some records and tells stories and Ryan tells a couple, too, though they're not as good, and he mostly ignores the crew's attempt to distract him from Alex's stories.

"My life's not very interesting," he says, shrugging.

"You're the _Prince_ ," Alex says.

"Yeah, but mostly I just sign things," Ryan says. "And learn to fence. You're a space adventurer, that's the kind of thing people write stories about."

"Because no one's ever written a story about a prince," Alex says.

"Not the cool ones," Ryan says. "And you still come to port for a royal inspection. That's like -- roguish deeds but with patriotic loyalty and a heart of gold. You're totally the hero of a harlequin novel," he concludes, and Alex looks startled into delighted laughter.

He walks Ryan back to his room when it's time for bed, because the ship is big and easy to get lost in. Ryan leans against the door to wish Alex goodnight. He smiles shyly and says, "I – thanks, really. This has been a nice day."

"You're welcome," Alex says, looking oddly guilty.

\---

Ryan gets a little lost in the morning. When he first wakes up he finds the door to his room is locked and it takes him way too long to figure out how to open said door. He makes a mental note to mention that. Having a room that doesn't open from the inside seems awfully unsafe.

He shuffles about sleepily, trying to figure out where he's going - the ship's corridors are narrow, and he manages to find the empty sick bay, and the big yawning cavern of the cargo bay, and what seem to be some more uninhabited quarters. The cargo bay, at least, points him in what he hopes is the right direction, because if he remembers the way the _outside_ of the ship looked properly then he just needs to climb that set of steps and set off across the upper level heading away with the cargo bay directly behind him. That there even is a second level is kind of astonishing, but, fine.

This corridor looks like it's the crew quarters, because there are little decorative things tacked to the doors and taped up on the walls and stuff. Ryan can't tell whose is whose or anything, because it's not like they decorate with _names_ , just _stuff_ , but.

Ryan figures, if he can find it, the navigation area again, near where he was yesterday, then that will be the most likely place to find someone else who's awake.

Way up in the nose of the ship, he finds it, this little two-seater room with standing room and a big bank of controls. It's sort of an old-fashioned set up and the equipment looks a bit dated, but Ryan supposes that's all right as long as it works. He's very used to top-of-the-line stuff, and this ship is probably older than he is. It's _great_.

He stands in the doorway and watches Z, who isn't doing a whole lot, actually. She's mostly sitting and reading, occasionally glancing up at one of the several screens and reaching forward to turn a dial or slide some control one way or the other.

The controls are so _physical_ , too. Ryan is really charmed. Analogue space ships are, he decides right then, probably his favorite thing, and he wonders, when he's crowned king, if he can get the royal fleet refitted. Or at least the flagship.

"Stop being creepy," Z says, without turning around. "You weirdo. We'll get there when we get there, and not any sooner."

"Oh, uh," Ryan says. "I'm sorry. If I'm being creepy."

Z startles. "What?" She turns around, staring. "Oh, Your Highness. Good morning."

"Is there - do you know if there's breakfast? Somewhere. Or if I could, there doesn't have to be breakfast, I could get myself something but I don't know where to go."

"Yeah, there is," Z says, and almost moves to get up, but says, "I can't really abandon my post right now, but," and gives him directions.

Ryan is ... okay at memorizing things, but not so good at directions. It's a poor combination and kind of leads him astray, and he gets tempted to just sit down in the middle of a hallway until someone finds him, and then he can be very petulant and indignant about how this is no way to treat royalty, but. He wanted adventure, and he is pretty sure this is at least _close_ to adventure. He's getting to hear about a lot of adventure, at least, and it's been fun, and he doesn't want to actually complain. He's just hungry and wants caffeine.

He kind of enjoys not being treated too much like royalty. It's not like anyone's disrespectful, but for strangers, they're all very casual, and the captain spent all last night treating him like a human being, not trying to suck up to him.

Still, when he's being treated like royalty it does cut down on the time he spends being lost and/or hungry. Not that he's never lost -- Spencer's pretty great at his job, but he can't work miracles -- but it doesn't happen as frequently as this, and he's starting to get a bit of a caffeine (or lack thereof) headache.

It's then that someone calls out, "Your Highness?" behind him and Ryan turns around to spot the captain climbing up from a hole in the floor a little way back, standing on a ladder.

"Hey," Ryan says, relieved.

"Z says she sent you to the kitchen," Alex says, tilting his head to the side and looking a little confused, sort of wary, too.

"Yeah," Ryan says. "I got a bit. Lost."

"No kidding," Alex says. He laughs, shaking his head a little. "I have no idea how you ended up here. That's some impressive getting lost you did."

"Thanks," Ryan says, and that makes Alex laugh again, and gesture for Ryan to follow him back down the ladder.

It takes Alex about five minutes to lead them back to the kitchen, and Ryan tries to memorise the twists and turns of the ship but it's a little too complicated for him, which is a pity. Then again, maybe Ryan shouldn't be that concerned about the layout of a ship he's only on by accident, and one that he probably won't be on for much longer. He thinks about asking just how much time their time sensitive job is going to take, but decides against it. It's because he doesn't want to seem like he's nagging or anything, he tells himself. It's got nothing to do with Ryan not really wanting to know when he's going to have to go back to the palace. It's only been twenty-four hours, he reminds himself, he's allowed to stay out, even though he already knows people are going to be furious when he gets home. Spencer's probably going to give him the responsibility talk again.

Breakfast is vegan bacon and French Toast made with soy milk and some strange egg substitute, which surprises Ryan. All the ships he's known have mostly eaten from protein packets, little silver foil packages that have a greyish substance you can heat up. The food is flavoured to be tasty but it has no real texture and Ryan doesn't know how people survive off it for so long.

"Oh, yeah," Alex says, when Ryan brings it up. "Yeah, that's definitely not our thing. Like, Z has an allergy to a common chemical in them, for one, so we can only get certain types of the protein packets, but also it's pretty gross."

"How do you manage all the fresh food?" Ryan asks. "Isn't it meant to be really expensive or something?"

Alex looks vague for a moment. "Oh, we have supplier friends," he says, waving a hand dismissively in the air, and then he hands Ryan a plate of the most delicious smelling breakfast Ryan's ever had, which is pretty good at distracting Ryan. Technically, he's had better breakfasts, but not on a really cool spaceship and not after he's been starving for what feels like hours.

The coffee is good, too, rich and sweet the way Ryan likes it.

"So what do you guys do all day?" Ryan asks. "Like, is there something I can help you with?"

"Nah, there's not a lot to do at the moment," Alex says. "We technically have a lot more crew than is necessary, but the ship's pretty big and we don't have any robotic equipment, so better safe than sorry, you know? Mostly we just make sure things are still running smoothly -- communications systems not so much today, obviously, but the engine and the tracking systems and so on. On the way to jobs, though, I guess it's just like any other trip. I can get you a book to read if you're bored. Or we have music and stuff."

"Really?" Ryan perks up.

"Yeah!" Alex grins at him. "Yeah, do you play something? We spend way too long banging away on them."

"Guitar," Ryan says. "Just a little. It's cool that you have them. Not many people do, these days."

"Easier to do it on computers, yeah," Alex agrees. "I dunno, man. I like strings under my fingers."

Ryan just looks at him for a moment, and Alex laughs and shakes his head.

"I know," he says. "Pretty dumb."

"No," Ryan says, softly. "No, I. I know what you mean."

\---

A couple more days out and Ryan actually figures out how to get to the kitchen from his quarters, which is awesome, because he can wander down whenever he wants. The lock on his door is still kind of weird, though, which he mentions to Darren - "Hey, is there something wrong with the, uh, the door. On the room. The room I sleep in."

"Oh," Darren says. "It - sticks sometimes."

Which doesn't actually make _sense_ , but.

"I'll look into it," Darren says. "In a bit."

"Okay," Ryan nods.

And at one point, he overhears bits and pieces of a conversation, captain and crew debating with each other in low voices and then a, "Well, we get there in two days anyway, so -"

Ryan isn't looking forward to them getting where they're going all that much, actually, because then they'll turn around. Then again, he can probably make a call planet-side and reassure everyone that he's all right and it was all a misunderstanding. He'll make sure the crew doesn't get in trouble for this, maybe see about giving them a bonus for getting him home safely.

When he can, when he thinks people aren't just trying to take advantage, Ryan likes to help his friends out.

Mostly people just try to take advantage, though. He's gotten all right at figuring out when people are just befriending him in hopes of getting promoted or getting priority in bidding on property, that kind of thing, when people are just expecting him to be corrupt and. Possibly he is, a little, taking advantage of his station the way he does but he doesn't like it when people try to exploit that.

As a kid, sometimes he'd sit in on group classes - teeny-tiny ones, him and four other kids, tops, the sons and daughters of high-ranking officials, like the son of the head of senate and whoever. One boy got mad at him when he couldn't stay and play tag with everyone after a lesson, once, said, "You can't just go. We _have_ to be friends, Your Highness, c'mon, my mom _said_ so."

And on, and on, and right now-

Right now Ryan's sitting around with a bunch of people he barely knows, laughing and playing guitar and throwing in the occasional verse in this ridiculous song they're all making up about, like, spaceship blues and spaceship food. Ryan is stupidly, ridiculously happy to be here right now.

Alex has been pretty quiet, actually, but then he comes up with probably the best verse of the evening, and oh, he can sing, too. Ryan grins, biting down on his lip, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Part of him wishes he could just stay here.

\---

It's kind of weird, a morning or two later, because he wakes up to the sound of the engines running high. It's not an unfamiliar sound, really, sounds pretty much the same as any ship that's just left orbit and is picking up momentum to go somewhere else.

Which implies they landed somewhere, in the night, while he slept. He's not sure if he should ask about that or not, but he's kind of worried they forgot again that he was there.

He gets up anyway and gets dressed and starts to go and try fiddling around with his door and seeing if it will open, only then he hears voices outside. He should call out, get them to just open it from the outside, but then he recognises Alex's voice. It sounds different to usual, low and urgent, and Ryan stays quiet, pressing his ear against the door and listening.

"I just think it's wrong," Alex says.

"Yeah," Z says. "Look, I know, but you thought it was wrong to start with--"

"That was on principle," Alex says. "This. This is different."

"He's a sweet kid," Z says. "I like him, but you know, they're not going to kill him or anything, they're probably just after a ransom and I'm sure they'll treat him all right--"

"You're sure," Alex scoffs. "Oh, okay, well if you're sure they'll treat him _all right_ then by all means--"

"Don't be a jerk, Alex," Z says. "You know we need the money. The ship's falling apart."

"Can't _we_ just do the ransom?" Alex asks plaintively. "If we really need it."

"And risk getting Urie and Valdes mad at us?" Z sounds disbelieving. "Are you serious? That means no safe passage for a couple of star systems at the very _least_ , and there's no guarantee they're not going to come after us."

"Why? We haven't taken any money off them yet. We don't owe them anything."

"We _said_ we'd do it," Z says. "We gave our word. That means a lot out here. It meant a lot to you until now."

"Z," Alex says, so soft Ryan has to strain to hear it. "I just think it's really wrong."

There's quiet for so long that Ryan thinks they've started whispering, or moved away, and he's missed the end of the conversation. Eventually, though, Z says, "I know."

"It's not even that I think it's wrong on -- on principle, or because, you know, human beings all deserve the same respect or whatever," Alex says. "I just. I thought he was cool."

"Yeah," Z says.

Ryan tries to convince himself that it's not what he thinks, that they must be talking about getting a ransom on someone _else_ , but. He's the only non-crew member aboard the ship, and the ship's communication systems are _conveniently_ down, and they didn't wake him up when they touched down to drop off whatever even though they know he has to call home to reassure them that he's all right.

Ryan wonders, idly, how many news reports there are about the missing prince. His family is technically in charge of multiple star systems, with near on a dozen inhabitable planets and a few moons with outposts on them. Ryan is not small change, not at all, and his safe return is worth a lot.

It makes sense, probably, that when Ryan let himself trust some people as friends, that they'd turn out to be - kind of a lot worse than the people back home promoting him in hopes of getting cushy government jobs, or promotions, or to have some crime or another conveniently ignored. Ryan's fine with those people.

This, on the other hand.

Kidnapping and human trafficking are pretty illegal. Ryan doesn't know that he especially wants to forgive them for it. He could pull the right strings, probably, but.

Maybe that's what he should do, offer to pull strings if they'll just let him go home. If they'd just _asked_ maybe he'd have even given in and gotten them a new ship, just because he's - really pretty easy about these things, and even an old ship from the fleet would be in better repair than this. He could have gotten a deal, had this ship traded in as junk and written off the expense of the new one, gotten an inspector to place the parts value on this ship as higher than it really is. It wouldn't have been difficult at all.

Instead Ryan's basically human chattel, and even if Alex is having second thoughts, that's unpleasant to think about. Alex thinking it's wrong doesn't seem to make a lot of difference, because if Alex really believed that, then, well. Ryan wouldn't be here in the first place.

He manages to get his door open.

He's wearing mostly borrowed clothes, at this point, because the ship's laundry is a bit old and Ryan doesn't know that he trusts the old washer with his outfit. His clothes are pretty high quality. So he's in a very soft old shirt and some jeans that fit a little awkwardly, but coupled with his own jacket and belt, and he'd kind of liked the effect of the juxtaposition of styles but now he's mostly just annoyed about it. He hasn't been wearing his sword, but he makes sure to hang it from his belt today, the scabbard a reassuring weight against his thigh.

Alex is heading one way, and Z the other - back towards the cockpit - and Ryan opts to say hello to Alex first.

"Good morning," Ryan says, keeping his head high. "Captain Greenwald."

"Your Highness," Alex says, with a bit of a nod, looking faintly confused at the way Ryan's addressing him. "Hey. What's up? You want breakfast?"

"I'm allowed breakfast, am I," Ryan says, and keeps walking with his head held high, moving as fast as he can so Alex has to hurry to keep up with him.

"What?" Alex laughs a little. "Uh, yeah, sure. There's lots?"

"Great," Ryan says. "It makes such a pleasant change from stale bread and water, that kind of thing."

"What?" Alex says again, but this time his voice is a little uncertain, and Ryan feels a vicious kind of gladness at that. He thinks about drawing his sword and pointing it at Alex's throat or something, but he's seen in the last few days how quick Alex can move when he wants to, and besides, Alex has those pistols, slung low on his hips. Ryan doesn't think it would be a particularly smart move. He's definitely outnumbered. The only way out of this, as far as he can see, is offering all sorts of promises and rewards for his safe return, and he's not particularly in the mood for that just now.

He settles for turning around and folding his arms, scowling. "Maybe I shouldn't eat, on second thoughts," he says. "Today's the day, right? You gonna drug my food, make me docile?"

Alex's face goes wary. "Your Highness," he begins.

"Shut up," Ryan says. "You're a liar and a criminal and I can't believe I was so naive."

"Look," Alex says, "it's more complicated than--"

"It's not," Ryan says, and he starts moving again, not wanting to stand and just look at Alex, because it makes him think about how nice everyone is and how much he had thought they were his friends or something stupid like that. "You kidnapped me and then _lied_ to me and -- do you realize what's going to happen to you? Who must be out looking for me, by now? I've been gone, what, four days now, the royal fleet should be out in full effect, you stupid jerk." For a moment, something like concern almost goes through him, but then he remembers what's going on and straightens, tilting his chin up. Righteous defiance, he thinks vaguely, and glares at Alex.

"We have precautions," Alex says.

"Oh, well, thank god for that," Ryan snarls. "Now I can sleep easy again without the threat of you know, the law catching up with you and all of that."

"Listen," Alex says. He catches Ryan's elbow, and Ryan shakes him off, quickening his step. "Highness, it's not -- it's not meant to be about you--"

"Except for the part where you kidnapped me," Ryan says.

"We wouldn't even have done it," Alex says urgently, "it's not even our idea, it's--"

"Valdes and Urie," Ryan says. "You think I haven't heard of them? Wow, thanks, I feel so much safer now." He takes a breath and stops, turning around to look at Alex, holding himself very still and very straight. "That's such a stupid thing to say, anyway. 'It's not our idea'. You couldn't say 'no'?"

Alex looks guilty.

"Yeah," Ryan says, low. "Look, I don't feel much like breakfast. Thanks anyway for - for all your hospitality."

Alex scrubs a hand through his hair, looking off to the side for a moment, then back at Ryan. "Look, maybe you should go back to your quarters."

"No," Ryan says.

Alex says, "You're not really in a position to say no, right now, actually. And if you don't want to eat breakfast with everyone, then."

"Then what?" Ryan says, aware of how obnoxious he's being right now. He still thinks it's a fair reaction. "You can't kill me, or you won't get paid."

"We wouldn't _kill you_ , come on," Alex says.

Ryan considers things for a moment. There are any number of threats he could make right now, in addition to all the bargaining he could try, but. He kind of wants to see how this plays out. It's messed up, but at least he's not studying and signing things and slogging through legalese. Being kidnapped is more exciting than sitting in on senate sessions or talking strategy with military officials.

That doesn't make him any less angry, it just means reconsidering things.

"Fine," Ryan says. He pauses, then stares at Alex. "Your ship really is falling apart, isn't it?"

Alex lets out a startled laugh. "What?"

"The door to my quarters." Ryan gestures vaguely. "The reason - I thought it was messed up, but you were trying to. I was supposed to be locked in, wasn't I?"

"Uh," Alex says. "No?"

Ryan is ridiculously pleased with this knowledge. Alex is lying, badly, but. Knowing that they can't even keep him properly locked up is _great_. This ship is a piece of junk - a huge one, but a piece of junk nonetheless - and Ryan honestly sort of loves it in every messed up aspect he's encountered so far. "I'll just go, then," Ryan says, having cheered up a little.

-

Out of principle, Ryan ignores the books he's borrowed - for about twenty minutes, but staring at the ceiling gets old, so he reads for a while, lying on his back in bed. At least it's comfortable. Not quite up to the standards back home, but totally passable, and Ryan remembers thinking this was great before he knew he'd been kidnapped.

Possibly he'd hate this narrow bed if he knew from the start he was kidnapped and supposed to be locked in, but he can't bring himself to be _too_ annoyed about it.

Time goes by, though, and Ryan really is very hungry. He wonders if they'll bring him lunch or anything. It is getting around lunch time now. There's some scuffling at the door, and what sounds like Sam and Darren talking to each other though he can't make out the words. Then it's quiet.

It gets past lunch time. Ryan doesn't think they'd, like, intentionally starve him, doesn't want to believe that, but maybe now that he's exposed the crew's wicked lies and subterfuge they're punishing him.

Ryan really hopes not.

There's more noise at the door, then quiet, then a bit of cursing. Ryan wonders what the hell's going on. Someone knocks a few times.

"Yes?" Ryan says, curtly, sitting up and setting the book aside.

"Hey, there, Prince Ryan." It's Darren. Which, okay. "We can't actually get the door open? It's kind of stuck from the outside."

Ryan starts laughing, before realizing that being locked in is pretty bad, actually. He goes to see if the ridiculous roundabout methods he used to get the door open still work, and he manages, after a bit. "Did you need something?"

"It's lunchtime," Darren says. "And you didn't get breakfast, so kind of. Alex said you'd probably be hungry by now. You're invited to come down to the kitchen if you want."

"I don't want to," Ryan says, though he _is_ getting bored and wouldn't mind the conversation. "But if you could bring me some food, please, that would be appreciated."

"Yeah, okay," Darren says. "I'll be back. Uh. Maybe leave your door open, though."

"No." Ryan is _also_ pleased, now, not only with getting to order around the crew - or at least Darren, in this one limited manner - as well as being able to lock himself up in his room. He can see that maybe coming in handy.

Darren doesn't come back. Alex does, though.

"Don't you have anything better to be doing, captain?" Ryan says.

"Eh, Z's figuring some things out right now, about our route. Little change of plans," Alex says. "So I've got a while."

"To do _what_?" Ryan says.

Alex shrugs. "Dunno. Here's lunch, though." He offers up a plate he's been balancing this whole time. It looks good, and smells better. Ryan's stomach grumbles a bit. Alex looks like he's trying not to laugh.

Ryan thinks about haughtily refusing or picking out some minute detail with the food that's wrong, but there's not much point to that, so he takes the plate and turns his back on Alex, going over to perch on the edge of his bed and eat as well as he can. It's a potato casserole, with rich gravy, delicious, and after a morning of no food Ryan's hard-pressed not to inhale it in a few gulps. He restrains himself, though, because Alex is still lingering in the doorway.

"So when are you handing me over," Ryan says finally, still not looking at Alex.

"Don't know just yet," Alex says a little vaguely. "Still -- ironing things out."

"Right," Ryan says. "Well, you just let me know when you're going to need to frogmarch me somewhere."

"Hey, c'mon," Alex says. He takes a few steps into Ryan's room, and when Ryan sneaks a look at him he's got that stupid half-smile like he's trying not to laugh again. "If you just -- calmed down a little--"

"Fuck you," Ryan says.

Alex makes a face. "Seriously," he says. "Just -- we're not evil, just stop being so bitchy and, and we'll all sort things out."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Ryan says, and turns away again. He doesn't want to look at Alex, not because he's furious -- although he is -- but because he feels stupid and embarrassed. He wonders if they were congratulating themselves the whole time on how well they were doing in conning the Prince into thinking they were cool. He wonders if they were laughing at how easy it was.

"Highness," Alex says. "We really -- I know it sounds stupid, but if you'll just trust us, we can. We're not going to hurt you, and, and maybe we made a mistake, too, and it's all kind of complicated now, but I'll get us all out of this. I'll make it so that everyone's happy, all right?"

Ryan breathes in. "You're right," he says. "That does sound stupid."

Alex is quiet for a long moment. "We're going to watch a movie tonight, after dinner, " he says finally. "You should come join us, if you want. We're not going to be arriving anywhere today."

Ryan doesn't say anything, and after a little while longer spent hovering, Alex leaves.

\---

Darren brings a bowl of dinner to Ryan, and repeats Alex's offer of the movie, but Ryan turns him down, and doesn't bother responding to Darren saying, "well, we're starting in about an hour, if you change your mind."

He does get kind of lonely and bored again, enough that an hour and a half later he's considering just sneaking down and finding some dark corner where he can join them without them noticing. It's lame, but Ryan actually gets halfway down the little grey hallway before he realizes his other option, now that everyone is apparently watching a movie. He wonders just how well-guarded the rest of the ship is going to be.

He goes quietly along to the cockpit thing, but Z is sitting there at her controls with her book, and it was wishful thinking to imagine he was going to get the opportunity to sabotage anything really important, anyway. Z will notice if he goes onto the bridge or anything like that, so Ryan turns around and heads as silently as he can in the opposite direction, down towards the little hall of rooms he's been past a few times, the ones where the rest of the crew sleeps.

The first on the left has a sign pinned to it that says PONYTAIL GROOVIN' and the door is stiff but unlocked. Ryan pushes at it with his shoulder until it slides open enough that he can fit through the gap to climb down a ladder and into the room below.

It's somewhat of a disaster zone; clothes strewn everywhere, and musical instruments lining the walls, ranging from a mandolin to about five miniature keyboards. There's a small pile of tinsel in one corner and the bed is unmade; one wall is made up of photos that have actually been printed out, which Ryan hasn't seen in years. He peers at them, fascinated; mostly they're members of the crew, although there are a few people he doesn't recognise in there. Then there's a line of masking tape halfway down the wall, with a bunch of news articles that have been printed out and pinned up there, too: stories about things being stolen, leads on smuggling rings, investigations into Urie and Valdes.

Ryan's pretty sure it's Alex's room, although he doesn't have any proper evidence for that. It just feels like it.

He should hurry up, though, because someone might come back and notice him missing or come to fetch something along here and find him, and so he starts searching properly for something, anything, that will be of use. He finds a lot of guns, some kind of scary, but Ryan doesn't think he's going to fight his way out of this even if he _does_ have a gun, and the idea makes him faintly uneasy anyway.

He pushes aside a couple of t-shirts and a hoodie and then starts to smile, triumphant. There's an old, but perfectly serviceable, portable comm device, and Ryan picks it up and turns it on. There's a high squeal of static and Ryan hurries to shut it off, but he can see that it's in working order, and the battery seems to be full. He clutches at it with both hands, and wonders if he can find a map somewhere just to pinpoint the coordinates of home.

He should know them by heart, but it never seemed important before now.

The way back to his room makes Ryan nervous, because every little creak and whine of the ship makes him nervous, and at one point the engine makes this weird hiccup. Ryan is still sort of fond of this ship in its idiosyncrasies, but it's creeping him out right now.

He makes it back, though, sits on the edge of his bed with the communicator in hand and thinks of calling home. Probably, with his luck, they'll walk by as soon as he turns it on, or while he's in the middle of a conversation, or whatever - hear him coming and have to sedate him and take it back or whatever.

Ryan _is_ grateful they haven't done anything to him physically, drugged him or whatever.

He hides the device under his pillow and gets up to pace for a bit. He'll wait until everyone's asleep before trying to call home. Hopefully the comm's absence won't be noticed before he can use it; that's a valid concern, but Ryan can't tell if it's better or worse than the risk of being heard so he just puts off doing anything. That room was a mess, anyway, probably Alex - or whoever - won't notice or will think it's just missing somewhere.

It's just over an hour after the movie was supposed to start, and Ryan's feeling anxious enough that he wants to do _something_ , so he ends up going down there anyway, stealthy as he can.

Ryan has _no idea_ what's going on, at first, but he catches on, and the plot is completely ridiculous and seems to be bordering on the nonsensical. He wonders if watching from the start would leave the film making any more sense, but then there's this whole weird scene with a _space moose_ \- which isn't even a thing, that's not even a real thing - and Sam says, "Okay, seriously, what the fuck is happening?" and Alex starts cracking up, so.

Ryan kind of assumes no one else has any idea, either, which is comforting, and the whole thing is nonsensical enough that - once Ryan realizes he's not the only one confused - it's kind of hard not to laugh. He stands in the doorway being very, very quiet and stealthy. Ryan has gotten good at being unobtrusive, what with years upon years of meetings and standing by while his dad held audience.

The monarchy is partly for show, these days, with the parliament and a whole council of advisers making a majority of the decisions, but his family is still hugely involved in diplomacy, and has veto power over pretty much everything. Ryan's only lately come into anything resembling responsibility of his own, and mostly he's still used to keeping out of the way during official functions.

Not that a movie is an official function, though Ryan's been to plenty of premiers in his day, has dragged along friends and people pretending to be friends to any number of movies to try and impress whoever's with him by meeting the stars afterwards.

Ryan does laugh, at one point, but everyone else does too and he catches himself quick enough that he's pretty sure no one notices.

The movie ends abruptly, cutting away to credits, and half the crew turns to ask Alex what the _fuck_ they just watched; Alex just waves off their complaints with practiced ease. Ryan kind of gets the impression this happens a lot, and he tries not to smile. He wonders if he can still sneak out now. He wishes he'd realized the movie was almost over, but there were about a million unresolved plot threads, and he thought it'd be at least twenty minutes more.

Ryan starts to back out of the room, very carefully.

"I've got the sequel," Alex is saying, proud. "It's even better, I promise. That girl with the," and he makes a vague gesture that Ryan can't figure out from here, "is like, pretty much the main character this time."

"Wait, the one - she was only in one scene," Sam says.

"Clearly the best reason to make a sequel about her," Alex says. "Since I'm sure audiences everywhere totally remembered that part and cared enough to want a fucking movie about it."

"There were four or five more sequels after that," Jeff mentions, pretty calm about the whole thing. He seems less confused than everyone else, or at least, less invested in any confusion he may harbor. "The third one was actually kind of good."

"We'll just watch the second one tonight," Alex says, switching the screen to show the next one.

Ryan figures that maybe he can just stay here, peering around the doorway. He _is_ really bored.

Alex cues the next movie up and they all settle back to watch it, and Ryan presses his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing again because the opening sequence of this one is almost more ridiculous than the rest of the last one put together, it's pretty magical. The movie doesn't seem to be particularly interested in clearing up any of the unresolved plot threads from the last one, although it does reveal that what he thought was the solution to the first movie's secondary problem isn't at all, and the whole thing is absurd and kind of awesome. It's not like the premieres Ryan gets invited to -- neither serious and moving, nor fluffy and full of today's stars. Ryan feels a little unsure how to react to it, like he's missing some sort of critical base of knowledge to judge it by, but then a surrealist dance sequence with Old-French subtitles starts and the crew are laughing helplessly and Ryan figures he's not the only one who doesn't know how to judge a film like this.

In the glow of the screen, Ryan can see Alex smiling too, smug and pleased with himself, hands clasped easily around his knee.

Ryan's back and feet are getting a little sore, but he wants to see the end of the movie so he doesn't move, shifting in place a little. He wishes he'd thought to bring a chair or something, although that might be too noticeable, even if Ryan put it half behind the wall, so he was only just leaning out of it to see what was going on onscreen in the next room.

He's just wondering whether it'd be worth it to go and fetch a chair now when Alex says, "Prince Ryan, there's plenty of room if you want to come sit down."

Ryan startles, but none of the rest of the crew look particularly surprised. Annie shifts over on the couch and pats the spot between her and Alex without looking back at him, and Ryan draws himself up to his full height and considers what the best pronouncement of doom and condescending fury would be.

Then one of the main characters peels off a mask, revealing herself to be the villain.

"What?" Ryan says, coming a little further into the room. "What just happened?"

"Shush," Alex says, putting one finger to his mouth and gesturing with the other hand for Ryan to come sit by him. "This is where it gets really awesome, come on."

"Alex, this is ridiculous," Laena says. "What, was he disguised as Kennedy all along?"

"Kennedy Jackson," Alex says, in exactly the same tone with the villain who is saying it onscreen at the moment, " _never existed_."

"Oh my god," Annie says, and the guys start laughing again. Ryan blinks at them, wondering if he should still be acting haughtily.

"That's _such_ a douchey move to pull," Sam says, shaking his head in wonder. "I can't believe -- that characterisation doesn't even make _sense_ , what the hell."

"Shut up," Alex says. "It's beautiful. Such a beautiful plot twist."

"It's a plot twist for jerks by jerks," Sam says. "No wonder you like it."

"I like it," Ryan says, without quite meaning to.

The rest of the room starts laughing even harder.

"Oh, fuck you," Ryan says, realizing. "I'm not. I'm the one you're all being jerks to, come on, I'm totally in the clear."

Alex slumps against Ryan's shoulder, just for a moment, body shaking with laughter. Ryan thinks about the comm device hidden in his room, and decides it's probably okay, to pretend to be friends with them, just for tonight. He can lull them into a false sense of security or something.

\---

Ryan gets, admittedly, a little confused, the next day, when they don't actually stop anywhere. Breakfast is brought to him, but he goes and eats lunch with the crew, trying not to sulk too much, because maybe if he can convince them he's not mad at them, then like - he can. Something. He's not sure what his plan is, but it's easier, when they're all friendly, to return it. Threats don't get him much of anywhere, so he lays off it and just kind of fantasizes in his head about getting them all arrested.

The day after, he almost asks if they've decided to be nice and not hand him over, but then Darren comes by, says, "Hey, Prince, prepare for landing," and Ryan sulks a bit about that but goes to his room and sits down because he can't imagine the ship will manage to be anything but shaky on landing.

The whole hull rattles and he can hear the metal groaning in complaint, and Ryan kind of wonders how this thing still manages to fly, how it's even capable of entering and leaving atmosphere anymore, and decides not to question it. Just one of the mysteries of the unknown.

It's Alex who comes to actually fetch him. Ryan is wearing only his own clothes, right now, even if they're dirty, because if he's going to be passed off as a prince he damn well wants to be recognizable as one. If someone sees him, maybe some good samaritan will call it in. He still can't believe he hasn't contacted home yet, which is _stupid_ , so stupid.

"All right," Ryan says, standing up and trying to be intimidating. "Let's get this over with, then. You - you know that from here on you will never be welcome in any of the seven systems, right? That means no more business with any of the local crime syndicates. If you get anywhere close --"

"Right, right, yes, the full might of the royal fleet will be upon us and show no mercy," Alex says, cutting him off. "That's great and all, really."

Ryan scowls.

"C'mon," Alex says, and Ryan wants to punch him, because the huge jerk is grinning and Ryan doesn't know why, because that's just mean. It's only Alex who leads him outside, though, and Ryan has seen lots and lots of pictures of the planet that Urie and Valdes base their operations out of, and this ... isn't it.

"What," Ryan says. He isn't even restrained in any way, and the ship is docked in a cheery little coastal town - there's a nice view of the sea out across the vast field of the port, waves crashing on a rocky shore.

"Shore leave," Alex announces cheerfully. "Kind of literally, I guess, but we're, you know. Getting some things figured out."

"Like how to be late in handling business deals?" Ryan guesses.

"I - no?" Alex laughs. "Come on. You're supposed to be happy."

"I don't see why," Ryan says.

Alex looks unsure for a moment, and then he waves his hand around hopefully and says, "Fresh air! Seashore breeze! What's not to like, come on."

"I'm here against my will, for one," Ryan says, because he hasn't quite given up on the being obnoxious thing just yet.

Alex laughs. "Yeah, yeah," he says. "I guess it probably is a little below your standards. No red carpet treatment, no fancy hotel. You want to go get some food?"

They go on through to a little fairground that's just beyond the dock; there's sideshows and a Ferris Wheel and gulls crying out overhead. Alex buys them tofu dogs with extra mustard and the whole time Ryan keeps waiting for someone to point at him and cry out in astonishment, but no one does. Ryan can't decide whether it's because of his clothes being sort of dirty and unkempt -- and his hair and face, too, he supposes, he can't grow a beard but he hasn't shaved in a while and he usually avoids stubble -- or just because no one expects to see the Royal Prince tagging along behind an unkempt pirate eating a tofu dog and getting mustard on his nose.

Alex hands him a napkin.

"How long are we here for?" Ryan asks, when it becomes apparent that Alex hasn't noticed Ryan ignoring him, busy breathing in the salty air and humming cheerfully to himself.

"Not long," Alex says. "Really we're here because Z wants a proper rest, and she likes the seaside. I think she's napping for a little while, but once she's come out and had her fill she'll herd us all back inside." He sighs heavily. "Probably before we get a chance to see it all at night, I think. Sucks. I love the lights."

"Aren't you the captain?" Ryan asks.

"Yes," Alex says.

Ryan blinks at him in confusion. He gets that Alex and his crew are friendly, but there's still a hierarchy. "So don't you get to decide when you take off again?"

"Um," Alex says. "Have you met my pilot?"

"She seems nice," Ryan says.

"She is," Alex says. "She's awesome. She's also kind of terrifying, so, you know, I do what she tells me."

"So she's the real captain, then," Ryan says.

"I'm the captain," Alex says, hurt. "How dare you."

"I'm sorry," Ryan says. "I see that it was wrong, now."

"So you should," Alex says. "I may never forgive -- oooh, fairy floss."

Alex buys everything, because Ryan doesn't carry money on him. He does have cards of his own, but he doesn't take them out -- normally advisers bring everything to him, and he doesn't have to worry about taking care of expenses himself. Now, he feels almost embarrassed, until he reminds himself that Alex is under no obligation to buy him lunch, and if he hadn't kidnapped Ryan they wouldn't be having this problem.

He still says thanks, when Alex hands him a stick of fairy floss, and they go and find a deserted playground down near the shore, taking a swing each.

"I love the sea," Alex says, kicking his legs a little, hooking his elbows around the chains so he can still hold onto his fairy floss as the swing goes up and down. "I wish it was warm enough to swim."

"You could swim anyway," Ryan suggests, unhelpfully. "If you got hypothermia, we'd probably have to stay here."

"I don't think I'd get hypothermia." Alex shoots Ryan an amused look, dragging his feet against the ground like he's going to stop himself. He changes his mind, though, kicks off again instead.

Ryan is mostly staying pretty still. He doesn't want to waste energy that could be used in a daring escape attempt. He could run for it now, but Alex apparently carries his guns everywhere - Ryan wonders if that's normal for him or not. Maybe it's an artefact of having a very valuable kidnapping victim with him. If Ryan made a break for it, Alex _probably_ wouldn't shoot, but Ryan is a bit paranoid about it anyway.

"You could, though," Ryan says. "I mean - swim."

"And I don't want to, in this weather," Alex says, managing a shrug. "If that's all right with you, I mean."

"Yes, it's fine," Ryan says, then blinks when Alex starts laughing.

"I'm glad I've got your approval, Your Highness."

"Shut up," Ryan says.

Alex grins at him, then gestures expressively towards the water. Out in the distance, some great creature snaps its head above the surface with a spray of water visible from the swing set. It snatches some barely-visible flying thing from the air and then arcs back beneath the surface, the flick of a long tail breaking the water as it dives back down.

There are boats out there, too. Ryan wonders what keeps that thing from eating them. There are more planets and more species of wildlife than Ryan can ever know, though his tutors tried to beat an awful lot into his head when he was younger. Large marine life was never a particular concern, except the few sentient species scattered across the oceans of some of the inhabited worlds. Stuff that big isn't likely to be smuggled off-world in the illegal pet trade.

"When we leave again," Ryan says. "Are we going to…?"

Alex sort of shrugs again, grin even wider, and not saying anything.

"What," Ryan says.

Alex looks _whimsical_ , Ryan decides, and it's annoying as all hell. Ryan is not seeing the whimsy here. He supposes it'll be better to finally be handed off, because there'll be a ransom, and either that will get paid or some kind of rescue mission will be mounted by the royal forces, and hopefully he won't get killed or tortured too much.

He's heard things, and really isn't relishing his destination at all, wouldn't relish it even if he _weren'_ t all kidnapped.

"You can still talk, right?" Ryan says.

Alex starts laughing. "You told me to shut up."

"What," Ryan begins, again, then shakes his head. "You know, never mind."

"I won't," Alex agrees.

"What?"

"I won't mind."

"Right," Ryan says. "Great, that's good."

"Anyway, no," Alex says.

Ryan squints at him. "Are you being deliberately obtuse right now?"

"Possibly," Alex says, with more of that fucking whimsy. It's getting ridiculous. Ryan does not approve of all this whimsy, nor of the sparkle in Alex's eyes. Possibly Ryan is staring a little, but it's just the whimsy overwhelming his poor attention span, or something else that is equally Alex's fault.

"Then what," Ryan says. "What is even going on right now?"

"I told you, we're figuring it out," Alex says. "Or, well, part of the crew is figuring it out. We in particular aren't doing anything right now. Except swinging. Also, talking, that's another thing going on, swinging and talking."

Ryan stares at him.

Alex just continues to smile.

"What are part of the crew figuring out?" Ryan asks eventually.

Alex says, "Will you hold my fairy floss?" and hands it to him without waiting for an answer. "Don't eat it," he warns, "I will make you _pay_."

"Okay, whatever," Ryan says, but he doesn't eat it. Alex kicks up, and soon he's swinging as high as he can go, enough that the frame of the swing set creaks worryingly and Ryan tenses so he can run out of the way of the collapsing rubble if he needs to. Every man for himself.

Alex doesn't talk or try and fancy tricks or anything, just swings higher and higher with his toes pointing up and the wind making his hair go everywhere. After about five minutes of this, he jumps off at the highest point, landing on his feet, and Ryan smiles at Alex despite himself when Alex turns back around.

Alex holds out his arms and bows and Ryan says, "Thank you, very nice entertainment."

"Let's go down to the beach," Alex says.

They sit on rocks at the beginning of the sand and take their shoes off, because Alex says that's the proper way to appreciate a beach, and Ryan has done it for as long as he can remember, anyway, unless he's on an official outing, which means he just has to stand there looking windswept and impeccably tailored all the same and ready to address the problems of the universe and intergalactic peace.

The sand is gritty and cold underneath his feet. There's a faintly hard, smooth feel to it, as well, like sea glass; Ryan tries to work out what planet this is, if he's been here before. It looks familiar, but Ryan gets beaches and things mixed up, sometimes. They wander close to the edge of the shore, and Alex walks along next to the water, for a little while, so that each sweep of the tide goes over his feet and his ankles. He's rolled his trousers up to just below his knees. Ryan hasn't, and he the hems of his pants are catching little grains of sand and dragging in an interesting way against Ryan's skin.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Ryan asks.

"Maybe," Alex says. "When things are a little bit clearer."

That's sort of an answer, at least, and Ryan nods and tilts his head back, hands in his pockets, watching the ships fly overhead, flashing silver against the dull grey sky.

"Look," Alex says, pointing. "There's mine."

Ryan blinks, but it is, he recognises it, sort of, the tiny, ancient ship he's spent the last week on. As he watches, it gathers up speed and streaks out of sight.

"Did they forget us?" Ryan asks, scandalised.

Alex laughs. "They'll be back."

"Seriously," Ryan says. "Where are they going?"

Alex pauses, for a moment. "They're just trying to check a path's safe."

"Without us?"

"Well, if it's not, we don't want you to be onboard when we find out."

Ryan scoffs, lowering his head. "Because my retail value will go down if I'm hurt or something?"

"Something like that," Alex says.

"It's good to feel valued," Ryan tells him.

Alex half-smiles, but he's still staring at the sky, gaze tracking the way his ship went. He looks worried.

"So what about you," Ryan says. "Captain too valuable to risk on a dangerous voyage, too?"

"I'm looking after you, didn't you notice," Alex says, a little bitterly. Ryan flushes, staring at his feet, and Alex sighs. "Sorry. No. It's not -- it's not meant to be a big deal, that's why I don't need to be on it, it's going to be fine."

"Okay," Ryan says.

They're planet side long enough to see the sunset. Ryan is sure he's been here before, from the colors and the smell of the air, and he thinks maybe it was a long time ago now. It doesn't matter much, he supposes, since he's here now.

He thinks about it, and - they get dinner, at a tiny little place with outdoor seating. There are little blue flowers in a vase in the middle of the table, and candles, and it's all a bit ridiculous but the food looks good and smells amazing. Ryan looks over the menu with idle curiosity, not too used to picking food on the spot.

He guesses he could stand to be more culinary adventurous, so he orders something with a bunch of ingredients he's never heard of before.

Alex grins, says, "I wouldn't have taken you as the sort that liked spicy stuff."

"Is it?" Ryan asks, blinking.

Alex laughs, though he looks a little confused. "Yes?"

"Oh," Ryan says.

"It's a fancied up version of a popular street food here," Alex says, with a bit of a shrug. "Better to just buy it off some sketchy dude with a cart, but it's _okay_ this way."

Ryan says, "You've been here."

"Yup." Alex doesn't seem inclined to offer more information than that, and changes the subject to something else, telling a meandering story about one time he and his crew touched down here, and Ryan finds himself laughing at parts without really meaning to.

Next time the waiter walks by, he grabs at the guy's arm, says, "Excuse me, waiter, if I could have a moment."

"Yes, sir?" the waiter asks, patiently but mildly irritated.

Ryan says, very quickly, his voice low, "I've been kidnapped. My name is Prince George Ryan Ross the second, and I—"

"Funny, Alex," the waiter says, cutting him off without really looking at Ryan in the process. "Really."

The waiter keeps on walking, shaking off Ryan's hand, and Alex stares at Ryan, eyes wide and shocked. Ryan breathes in, and goes to stand up, but Alex kicks his ankle out, tripping him so neatly Ryan doesn't realize it's been done until he's sitting down in his chair again.

"Ooof," he says, startled.

"Don't do that again," Alex says, voice low and warning.

"Fuck you," Ryan says.

"I mean it," Alex says. He puts his hand beneath the table, slowly, obviously, and under the general clatter of the street and the people around them Ryan hears the unmistakeable click of the safety catch. He breathes in, knife-sharp and shallow.

"Fuck you," he repeats, but his voice is smaller this time. He's afraid, he thinks dimly, but Alex looks a little shocked and frightened himself, and his other hand is still on the table, flat against the white cloth. Ryan looks at Alex's hand, the one that isn't under the table pointing a gun at Ryan, and thinks about Alex's long fingers curled around the handle, the straight way Alex is holding himself. Ryan is pretty messed up, he figures, because he's not just shivering from fear.

It's a different waiter who brings out their food, and Alex says, voice still dropped low and a little rougher than usual, "Eat up," and Ryan does, not quite able to take his eyes off Alex. The food is spicy, but not so much that he can't handle, not if he eats a fair bit of rice with it. He drinks water, too.

Alex doesn't eat much of his meal. It's an arrangement of vegetables, and every now and then Alex spears a piece awkwardly with a fork in his left hand and eats it, but mostly he just stares at Ryan, watching him so that Ryan feels conscious of his every movement, especially the ones that aren't necessary, like if he moves too big Alex is going to think he's trying to escape again.

When he's finished he scrapes his chair back from the table to signal that he's done, but Alex says, low and fierce, " _Don't move_."

"You're not going to shoot me," Ryan says, with a bravado he absolutely does not feel.

"You don't know what I'll do," Alex says, and Ryan ducks his head again, because Alex's eyes are dark and he's leaning forward a little and Ryan can feel his cheeks heating up. He is so fucked up, holy shit.

\---

After dinner, as they're leaving, Alex says, very low, "Stay close."

"What?"

Alex drops his eyes, and Ryan follows his gaze, to - right, of course, a hand on one of his pistols. Naturally. Ryan stares a moment too long, and Alex huffs out an impatient breath, says, "C'mon."

Ryan keeps looking around as they walk again, and at one point he slows to look at something in a shop window. Alex stops dead in front of him, turning around, and looks like he's going to say something mean but he laughs, instead, because Ryan is absolutely fascinated by a display of stuffed animals in the aforementioned window.

"What?" Ryan says, then, "Oh, sorry."

"No, it's." Alex shakes his head. He looks like he's fighting off a smile, with only some success.

"I had one of those," Ryan says, pointing at one goofy-looking creature. "When I was very young."

"Really?" Alex asks, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought they'd let you play with toys, what with being all princely."

"I - what? I had a childhood," Ryan says, haughtily. "I'll have you know, my tastes set the trends for years. Even beyond the seven systems. And that was my favorite animal when I was a kid. They just wouldn't let me have a real one, so I had to make do."

"Sure," Alex says, efforts at not smiling failing miserably.

"Mine was hand-made, anyway," Ryan says. "By artisan craftsman from Hizea IV."

"Of course." Alex snorts, then laughs at the sound. Ryan just blinks at him. "Do you wanna."

"That's not a sentence," Ryan says, when it's evident Alex isn't going to complete the question.

Alex grabs Ryan's hand, says, "Not a _word_ ," and goes into the shop, which is about fifteen minutes from closing. Alex gives the clerk a winning smile and talks her into giving him a discount, somehow, on the stupid animal from the window. Ryan just stares at him with puzzled horror, because, seriously, he's an adult. He doesn't need silly stuffed toys.

Ryan is holding onto it with one hand, as they walk out, because Alex still has a death grip on the other. Ryan wonders, "What the hell?"

"I just can't resist buying you pretty things," Alex says, batting his eyelashes, then shrugs. "You got distracted. I figured it might cheer you up."

" _Cheer me up_ ," Ryan says, incredulously. "Yes, of course, that will fix everything. I just need to cheer up. It's not like I've been kidnapped or anyth -- _oh wait_ , yes, I have, silly me. How could I forget?"

"Shit." Alex laughs, short and sharp. "Fine, okay. Look, I'm going to need to make a call real quick. Do you think you can hold tight while I do?"

Ryan glares at him.

"Great, okay," Alex sighs. "I'd just do this later, but I lost my comm. Probably wouldn't have worked at such long range, though, now that I think about it, so I'd still have to - yeah, okay. Well. I'm going to call the ship. Don't get too excited."

They duck into a little cafe that advertises low rates for long-distance calling, and Alex hails the ship and has a short, terse conversation with Z. He mentions, at the outset, that Ryan is listening in. Ryan wonders what they would have said if he weren't here, how the conversation might have gone otherwise, but there's no real way of knowing. The conversation ends quickly, just lasts long enough to determine they're going to be gone a while longer but should be back by mid-evening tomorrow, or the morning after that at the very latest.

Alex looks upset by this development.

"What's going on?" Ryan asks.

"Not sure," Alex says. "Hopefully it'll be all right."

"You don't think they're staging an insurrection and stealing your ship, do you?" Ryan says. "Maybe you haven't bought your crew enough stuffed animals lately."

Alex chuckles under his breath. "I don't think even they'd be crazy enough to steal that ship."

"It's not that bad," Ryan says. "It's got a certain charm to it."

"Thanks," Alex says. "High praise." He stands looking worried for a moment longer, and then he exhales loudly and says, "Fine, okay, look, we're just going to have to find a hotel for the night."

"All right," Ryan says, and then Alex grabs his hand again and starts leading him down the street with a really purposeful sort of air, one Ryan doesn't entirely know what to do with. He keeps his head ducked, trying to avoid attracting anyone's attention, and he hurries so he can stick close behind Alex. Every now and then he trips over Alex's heels and Alex sends him this faintly amused, faintly annoyed look over his shoulder, and Ryan breathes in and lets his gaze flit to where Alex's free hand is still resting casually on the hilt of his pistol. Ryan squeezes his stuffed toy in a little closer to his side.

The first hotel is full, they're told -- tourist season, the guy says, shaking his head without looking at them. Ryan considers stepping forward and saying _do you know who I am_ , just to see if the guy will _make_ room for them, but Alex is watching Ryan and he shakes his head minutely. Ryan didn't even say anything out loud, but he slumps and shuts his mouth and Alex says, "Thanks anyway," and pulls Ryan back out the door.

"Where are we going now?" Ryan asks, stumbling to keep up with Alex. "Is there another hotel?" The town seems pretty small; Ryan hopes they're not going to end up in some dodgy motel-ish place, or on a park bench for the night or something. Most of the time he pretends he's not spoiled, but that idea is really kind of gross.

"No," Alex says, "but there's a woman who lets out rooms, I think. Hopefully she'll have one with two beds."

"She doesn't have two rooms to spare?" Ryan asks.

"She might," Alex says, "but I think it's probably best not to leave you on your own, after that little stunt."

Ryan flushes. After a second, Alex squeezes his hand, just once, warm and tight.

The house they end up at is nice enough looking, if a little small. It has whitewashed walls and floral curtains fluttering in the windows and Ryan figures that probably he's not going to end up murdered or whatever in his sleep here, or at least no one's going to attempt to cut off his hair for a souvenir, which has happened in the past and is still one of Ryan's worst memories, even if Spencer rolls his eyes and looks like he wants to bludgeon Ryan to death with the nearest blunt object every time Ryan brings it up.

He doesn't even bring it up that frequently, seriously. Spencer's so mean.

The woman who opens the door is in her sixties, with white hair pulled back into a bun and a smiling, delighted face. Her left eye is cloudy and unfocused, but her good eye is bright and bluer than any Ryan has ever seen before. Alex bends down to give her a hug and she says, "Timmy, you're here!"

Ryan stares.

"Come in, come in," she says, turning around and bustling inside, and Alex looks at Ryan. Ryan mouths, _Timmy?_ and Alex looks guilty and holds a finger to his lips.

She leads them down a little hallway into the kitchen. "Who's your friend, darling?"

"This is Ryan," Alex says. "We were wondering if you have room for the night."

"Always, for you," she says, going up on her toes to kiss Alex on the cheek. Alex looks amused but also kind of put-upon, and Ryan is pretty clear on why this wasn't Alex's first choice of accommodation.

"We won't be staying long, just a night or two," Alex says. "Don't worry. You'll hardly notice we're around."

"Oh, well," she says. "That doesn't mean you don't have to tell me how you've been."

"Good," Alex says. "It's, you know. Space is still big. Still dark. Lots of parcels to deliver."

"That's one way to put it," Ryan says, with a bit of a laugh, wondering if he counts as a parcel. Probably that also includes weapons and drugs and whatever else it is that rogues and villains transport in rickety old ships.

The old woman blinks at him. "Hmm?"

Ryan shrugs, looking sheepish. "It's - really busy. That's all."

Alex gives him a grateful look. Ryan almost smiles, before remembering that, no, he's helping aid and abet his own kidnapping. He wonders if that's a crime. He's pretty sure he won't get arrested for it, either way.

"Well, that's good," she says. "Would you like some tea, Ryan?"

"Yes, please," Ryan says, with a very slight bow, just out of some distant habit.

"Oh, he's a dear, isn't he, Timmy?" she says, delighted. She curtsies back before busily fussing around, putting the water on and finding some tea leaves. "It's a lucky thing you stopped by here, first, because I hear tell the hotel is full up for the next week. Why they can't just add more rooms, I'll never understand. This happens every year."

She goes on about the hotel and the tourists for a while longer, while scrubbing some more delicate dishes clean and fussing with how things are arranged in the cupboards. She's old and tiny, and occasionally seems slightly confused, but mostly she's just lively and warm, and Ryan wonders what the story is, here.

Ryan makes polite small talk, to the best that he's able, though when she asks what he does for a living he gets a little flustered. "I - well, I just finished school." It's true enough, mostly. He figures it's a workable answer, and when she asks what he was studying, he's even able to give a decent answer there -- "Politics, mostly."

"Oh, well," she says, nodding understandingly. "It isn't any wonder you'd end up in space, then."

"I - no?"

"Well, there aren't very many jobs in politics, unless you come from a good family or have a lot of money," she says, kindly. "Anyway, I'm afraid I can't entertain you too much longer." The statement's punctuated by a yawn.

"Oh, that's all right," Alex says. "You've been very kind. Is one of your rooms ready, or -?"

"Yes, yes," she says. "Same one you stayed in back in the day, even."

"Ah," Alex says, mouth open like he might protest further. He shuts it, thinking the better of it, and smiles briefly. "Great, thanks."

"Try not to make too much work for me cleaning up after you. I know what you're like," she says, waggling a finger at him in admonishment, and Alex looks so horrified that Ryan can't help but laugh.

"No, ma'am," Alex says eventually, which makes Ryan laugh again because it sounds strange coming from Alex's mouth.

"You boys have eaten?" she asks. "I'm afraid I didn't have leftovers from my own dinner, but I can fix you up a sandwich or--"

"We're fine, thank you," Alex says.

"Well, you know where the fridge is," she says, and comes to present her cheek for a kiss goodnight from Alex. "It's lovely to see you again, Timmy. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten on me."

"I only stay away for fear of my broken heart," Alex tells her solemnly, and she laughs and gives Ryan a pat on the head -- making him stoop to get it -- before she disappears off up the hallway.

Ryan looks at Alex. "Wow."

"Yeah, shut up," Alex says, in a low voice. "She's one of Annie's great-aunts, she's a good sort. She thinks me and Annie run a courier company."

"Nice," Ryan says.

"Yeah," Alex says. "Anyway, you want to, uh, play a board game or something?"

Ryan blinks at him. "Seriously?"

"Well, it's not that late--"

"Getting there," Ryan says. He's kind of grumpy. He's been looking forward to bed and sleep. "It's been a long day."

"Escape attempts can do that to you," Alex agrees.

"Or being threatened and held prisoner," Ryan says, and starts up off the hallway, only he ends up having to wait for Alex to catch up because he doesn't know where their room is.

"Right," Alex says, darting an uneasy glance at him, "so, the thing is, like. Elsie, her house is pretty small, right?"

"I thought you said we were sharing a room anyway," Ryan says. "So I don't make a rope out of bed sheets and make a break for it."

"Yeah," Alex says. "But she's just not, like. Equipped for all circumstances."

"Okay?" Ryan says, wondering where this is going.

"Okay, great," Alex says, and opens a door, leading the way into a room with a double bed and a dresser and not much else.

"Oh," Ryan says. "I get the bed," he adds, hastily.

"What," Alex says. "I'm captain. I get the bed."

"You're the captain, and I'm the prince of seven stars and a dozen worlds," Ryan says. "I think I have the superior rank."

"Not here, you don't," Alex says.

"Shut up." Ryan crosses his arms. "Let's play Scrabble. Whoever wins gets the bed."

Alex laughs. "What the fuck is Scrabble?"

"Never mind," Ryan says. "Chess? Does she have a chess set?"

"Yeah," Alex says, cheerfully. "You sure you want to challenge me to a game of chess?"

"I'm sure."

Alex beams. "If you insist."

\---

"Best two out of three?" Ryan tries, glowering a little.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Oh, come on, you can't even - that's not my title yet. People call my _dad_ your majesty."

"Your Highness is correct, though, right?"

"It works," Ryan shrugs.

"And Prince Ross, obviously," Alex says, ticking names of on his fingers. "And Prince George Ryan Ross the Second, future ruler of seven stars and a dozen worlds and some mining colonies or whatever."

Ryan lets out a little bit of a laugh as he finishes resetting the board, taking his first move.

Alex ponders the board for a moment before deciding what to do.

"Do you know," Ryan says. He moves another pawn forward. "I have a - a shorter title. Than all of those."

"You do?" Alex's next move is made with hardly a glance toward the board.

Ryan frowns, trying to work out Alex's strategy, but it's a little early yet so he just carries on putting his own plans into motion. "Yes."

"What is it, then?"

"Ryan."

"It wouldn't be proper to call you that, though," Alex says. "Right?"

"No, it wouldn't," Ryan agrees. "But rules can be bent a little. In extenuating circumstances, such as _when I've been kidnapped_."

"Yeah, yeah," Alex says, mildly. He rolls his eyes. "But are you saying. I can ditch the titles, then?"

Ryan shrugs, focusing on the game, and doesn't give an answer. Alex makes a thoughtful sound then returns his concentration to the board as well, occasionally looking up at Ryan sort of searchingly.

Ryan doesn't know what to make of it. He also doesn't know what possessed him to allow Alex to call him Ryan, but he's kind of -- missed hearing his name. It was nice when Elsie used it. Sometimes Ryan wishes he _were_ just Ryan, instead of the prince with all the added formality that entails.

They're sitting cross-legged on the bed, the old wooden board between them. Ryan keeps looking around, as if he'll learn anything new from the cheery floral wallpaper and the mismatched curtains, but his surroundings don't tell him anything, really. He doesn't know what he was hoping for, anyway.

At least the game is fun.

\---

"Best five out of ten," Ryan says, adamant, and Alex just laughs and shakes his head.

"Now _I'm_ getting tired," Alex says. "I thought you were the one who wanted to sleep early."

"It's not my fault you're a cheater."

Alex cracks up, laughing a little harder than is strictly warranted by the statement. Ryan starts laughing, too, though, because it's late and they've played way too much chess for one night. It's gotten very late, too, the sky darkening ever-further. There are stars out in the sky, but the way they're arranged is unfamiliar and Ryan tries not to look at them too much.

He draws the curtains, at one point, just because they're bothering him.

"We could split the bed," Alex offers, finally. "Put a pillow in the middle, stick to our sides."

Ryan squints at him searchingly, and figures that his motives are probably - that if Ryan wakes up and tries to leave, Alex will be bound to feel the mattress shift in the night. It's a valid concern, Ryan supposes.

"What?" Alex says. "It's an idea."

"Yeah," Ryan says slowly. "What did Elsie mean before about you getting the bed messy?"

Alex laughed, looking a little startled and maybe, underneath that, kind of embarrassed. He shook his head. "A gentleman keeps his secrets."

"Right," Ryan said. Alex's motives were fine. Ryan wondered, a little uneasily, what his own were. "Okay, well. You better not steal the blankets."

"I would never _dream_ of doing such a thing," Alex protested.

"You don't seem to have much trouble stealing other things," Ryan said.

"Yeah, yeah," Alex said. "Come on, then. Bedtime."

Ryan regretted wearing his princely clothes after all, because the button up shirt wasn't half as comfortable to sleep in as the soft t-shirts he'd been wearing of late. He thought it might be a bit odd if he took his shirt off completely, though, so he didn't.

Alex left his t-shirt on, too, sliding in between the covers with this odd little sigh. He waves his hand at the light until it turns off, and then rolls around a bunch of times. Ryan lies flat on his back, feeling awkward. He has no idea what Alex is doing. He hasn't shared a bed with someone before, or at least not platonically. Even Spencer had his own twin bed brought out at sleepovers when they were small.

"Pillow wall," Ryan reminds Alex.

"Hmm? Oh, come on, use yours. I like two pillows to sleep."

"So do I," Ryan says.

"Well, then." Alex sighs a little. "It can be a metaphorical pillow wall."

"But what about my virtue," Ryan says. "I have to be a virgin until marriage and coronation."

Alex rolls over and stares at him.

"That was a joke," Ryan says.

Alex keeps staring.

"I had my joking voice on!" Ryan says.

"I can't believe you just said that," Alex says. "I don't even know which part I'm more horrified by."

"The virgin bit," Ryan tells him. "Obviously, I am -- worldly and experienced."

"Right," Alex says. "Also, I wouldn't have to steal anything, come on." He sounds faintly affronted.

Ryan blinks. "What?"

"I am worldly and experienced, too," Alex explains. "And also very charming."

Ryan very nearly says _prove it_ , but thinks maybe that's not so good of an idea. He's had better ones, and then it's just sort of an awkwardly long time for him to come up with any witty comeback, so he just says, "Right, of course."

Alex's stare is a little unnerving, especially in the dark.

"Not," Ryan says, "that it makes any differences. Because your charms don't work on me. Since I got kidnapped."

"Okay," Alex says. "If you insist."

"Not that, uhm," Ryan adds. "Not that you've made any effort. At being charming."

"It's subconscious," Alex agrees. "I can't help it."

"Good."

"What?"

"I'm going to go to sleep now," Ryan tells Alex, imperiously, and that's the end of that. He turns onto his side, facing the wall, and then, after a moment's consideration, decides he should hold onto the stuffed animal Alex got him earlier, just in case, like. If someone breaks in during the night. So they can't steal it.

\---

Ryan wakes up, sort of bleary and not wanting to move at first until he realizes there's someone looming over him. His first thought is an assassination attempt - he's only ever dealt with one of those, and it was his security detail that actually handled things in that instance. Plus, it wasn't in his bed while he slept.

He flails a bit, and throws whatever he's holding onto at whoever's looming over him.

By then, he's awake enough to realize it's Alex, who's now doubled over laughing.

"What the fuck?" Ryan says, voice still rough and sleepy.

"Breakfast time," Alex says, then adds on, cheerfully, "Do you always throw things at people when you wake up, Ryan?"

"No," Ryan says. "Just when they're looming over me while I try to sleep."

"That happens a lot, then."

" _No_." Ryan says, "I can see why you're single, if you think standing around staring at people while they sleep is appropriate."

Alex starts laughing. "How do you know I'm single, hey? C'mon. I could have people waiting longingly for my return on, on dozens of worlds. You don't know."

Ryan gives him a weary glare before getting up and out of bed. He looks around for a moment before realizing he doesn't have any other clothes to change into, and resigns himself to just living out his days in squalor and filth before being sold to the highest bidder, or whatever.

He follows Alex back to the kitchen, anyway, and Elsie's making _waffles_ , and that's enough to lift Ryan's spirits despite not having showered for a whole day now. Waffles fix a lot of things, Ryan figures. There's fresh fruit to top them, and whipped cream, and it's a little overwhelming, but delicious, and the coffee's good, too. Ryan can't find room to complain, really.

Elsie seems pleasantly surprised that they're up so early, and goes on a meandering story about how the last time Timmy was here he slept in until almost noon and nearly missed lunch. It's not an especially interesting story, but Ryan laughs anyway, because Alex looks so embarrassed about the whole thing.

After breakfast, they head outdoors again.

"Where are we going?" Ryan asks.

"Somewhere else," Alex says, tersely, then starts laughing. "I just - she's nice, she really is, but."

"At least she doesn't have pictures of you as a baby," Ryan says, serenely. "I'm sure I could have gotten her to bring those out."

"You wouldn't," Alex says.

"If it were possible, I would," Ryan says.

"Would not," Alex says. "Come on. You're not that terrible a person."

"Only a little terrible," Ryan agrees, holding his fingers and thumb a slight distance apart. "A small degree of terrible. Not as terrible as you, at least."

"Oh, come on," Alex says. "Look, let's go find you some new clothes, so you can stop looking like such a huge jerk."

"I will have you know, one of the kingdom's top designers made this outfit for me," Ryan says. "I picked it myself. There was a contest."

"A - _what_?" Alex laughs.

"And then I wrote a personal letter of thanks and sent it to the winner," Ryan says. "Well, I mean, Spencer wrote it, but I signed it. And affixed my personal seal."

"You have a weird life," Alex tells him. Ryan shrugs, because it feels like Alex has a stranger one, constantly on the run, doing dark deeds and such, but he can't be bothered arguing the point. Alex laughs a little, stretching up towards the early morning sun. The clouds have parted today, and Ryan tries to work out what system this is based on the sun. It's almost pinkish. He's fairly sure he's still the Royal Prince here.

"Who's Spencer?" Alex asks a moment later.

"Oh, he's like -- my adviser," Ryan says. "I mean, he's my best friend, too, but you know, work first."

Alex gives him a weird look. "I guess."

"Spencer's really cool," Ryan says, a little defensive at the strange note in Alex's voice.

"Yeah," Alex says, "sure, I believe you, but you get your friends to write letters and things for you?"

"Oh, Spencer wouldn't normally do that," Ryan says. "But he hates this outfit, he wanted to put in faintly ominous imagery to discourage the winner from ever entering again."

Alex blinks. "Really?"

"Spencer has a problem with paisley," Ryan says, running his finger along the line of his belt gently.

"Right, okay," Alex says. He ducks his head, smiling a bit. "Anyway, well. I don't think Z's going to be back with the ship until tonight, so. Is there anything you want to do here?"

Ryan shrugs. "I don't mind."

He doesn't really _know_ , is the thing. He guesses there are tourist attractions that they could go and attend to, but usually Ryan doesn't have to bother coming up with his own itinerary. His main contribution to his daily timetable over the past five years has been putting in that he wants to be able to sleep in every day without fail. Sometimes he gets up earlier, just to surprise everyone. It's an exciting life.

"I want to go back to the fairground," Alex says. He gives the soft toy Ryan has wedged under his arm a fond look. "Maybe I can win your guy a friend."

"How dare you," Ryan says, clutching it close, "she's a _lady_."

"Of course," Alex says. "How didn't I spot it earlier?"

"It's the feminine glow in her eyes," Ryan says.

Alex laughs. "Oh, wow. Don't repeat that to any of the girls, whatever you do."

"Why?"

Alex stops and looks around, checking that the coast is clear. He beckons Ryan in with a finger, and Ryan leans in close, intrigued, eyes wide.

Alex lowers his voice and whispers, "I think they could take you."

"What?"

"They could beat you up," Alex clarifies. "Pretty well, you know, so just. Shut up with all of that." He grins at Ryan, looking unduly delighted at the idea.

"Hmph." Ryan crosses his arms, sort of, though it's possible the gesture loses some of its impact because of the stuffed animal. Alex only grins wider, which Ryan wouldn't have thought possible.

Alex takes a meandering path back to the fair ground, and Ryan tries not to get too distracted by the shop windows they occasionally pass. Mostly it's a lot of residential streets, with tall, broad-leafed plants providing shade. There are a lot of children running around playing, and that sort of thing, and Ryan is keenly fascinated by all of it.

It's not like he hasn't visited other planets before or anything. He's toured nearly all of his home planet, and visited the major cities of a good number of others, and it all kind of blurs together in a mess of formal functions and guided tours. Even when he's gotten free reign of a place, his security detail is generally along, and people are sort of - aware he's visiting. The paparazzi tail him, sometimes, and it's fun to mess with them, but this is - no one's bothering him.

Right now, nobody expects much of anything of Ryan, and Alex is entertaining even though he's also a vile kidnapper, and really, for a kidnapping, this isn't so bad. He's getting to wander around outdoors, is getting proper food, isn't getting mistreated. Possibly the lack of a shower could be counted as mild torture, but even Ryan is willing to admit that would be stretching the boundaries of that term a little far.

"Oh!" Ryan says, stopping in front of one store along the main street. He laughs a bit, because one of the mannequins in the shop window has a jacket that's pretty clearly styled after the one he's wearing now.

"Don't tell me you want the same jacket again," Alex says. "That's boring."

"I have, like, three of this one already," Ryan says, making a face. "I don't need a cheap knock-off."

"C'mon, let's find you something else," Alex says, and drags Ryan across the way into a somewhat dingy second-hand store.

Ryan pokes through the racks a little disdainfully, and hesitant to actually touch anything, but then Alex holds up possibly the most amazing jacket Ryan's ever seen, with altogether too many patterns happening at once. "Ryan. This is it. This right here."

" _No_ , wow," Ryan laughs. "It's. What is that, lace? I don't understand how that jacket happened."

Alex checks the tag. "It happened out of wool, but I can't tell who made it. Someone cut the tag out. Probably out of - of selfishness, they didn't want anyone else to know about the existence of such a great designer."

"Probably," Ryan agrees. "You should put it back so someone else can discover it. Here, no, okay, this one's - this looks all right."

"And paisley," Alex says, shaking his head. "What would Spencer think?"

Ryan supposes that's a valid point, although Alex hasn't even met Spencer. Ryan isn't even planning on keeping anything he buys. _Still_. If, somehow, he gets recognized and rescued while wearing that jacket, he would never ever live it down. Ryan sighs, defeated, and puts it back, and finally ends up shrugging on a plain suit jacket in sort of a maroon color.

"That's tolerable," Alex says, nodding. "You could do that."

"I could," Ryan says. "Come on, help - help me find something better. If you're such a stylish guy."

"I am. Shut up. Here, look, this looks like your size," Alex says, tossing him a floral shirt and then, slightly more dignified about it, handing him a blazer. "There. Now you can be clothed like a normal person."

"I dress like a normal person," Ryan says. "So normal."

"Your clothes were designed for a _contest_ ," Alex says.

"They almost made a reality show of the, you know, competition I guess," Ryan says, thinking back, and Alex just starts laughing. "I know, stop it, it was a terrible idea and I ordered them not to. I don't even remember whose idea that was. They've probably been fired."

"Anyway," Alex says. "You can wear something that wasn't put together by a committee."

"If I just wear what you tell me to, it's sort of the same thing," Ryan says, but in the end he gets a shirt and tie and the blazer Alex found, and figures that's good enough. He gets a bag to carry his new things in, and almost puts his stuffed animal in the bag as well but decides he doesn't want to have too many things in there. There's probably room, but he wants to play it safe, just in case.

And anyway, he makes Alex carry the bag as soon as they get back to the fair.

"Take this for a moment, would you?" Ryan says, with a polite smile.

Alex obliges, then says, "Wait, why?"

Ryan beams. "Wanted to see if you'd do it."

"You jerk," Alex says. "Carry your own stuff."

"You just called me a jerk," Ryan says. His face kind of hurts from smiling so hard.

Alex just looks confused. "I - because you are?"

Ryan bit his lip, even though it didn't do much to keep him from grinning stupidly at Alex. "I'm just saying, that's probably treason or something. I don't even know how long they'd lock you up for it."

"Oh, shut up," Alex says, and shoves Ryan in the shoulder, sending him stumbling a few steps to the side before he straightens and goes back to Alex's side.

Alex keeps carrying his bag, anyway, so Ryan's going to count it as a win.

\---

It's the most pointless day Ryan has had in a long time. He supposes the other days on the ship have been equally pointless, but they were at least travelling, and anyway, Ryan was busy being kidnapped.

Technically he's still kidnapped now, but it's harder to keep that in mind when Alex spends half an hour heckling him while Ryan plays a very complex game of tenpin bowling in order to win a little bubble blower thing. Ryan wins, anyway, despite Alex's bad influence, and Alex steals the bubbles and seems delighted with them, and then they go and find lunch. Alex buys Ryan fries and cheese and gets himself a sandwich with bits of salad coming out from everywhere, but he decides he likes Ryan's more and eats about half of it. Ryan hasn't had anyone steal his food in a long time, unless they're like, poison testers or whoever, who don't count. He wonders if maybe he should be annoyed just now, but he's not.

It's a bizarre day.

When it starts to turn into late afternoon, the shadows getting longer, Alex goes and calls Z again.

"Yeah," he says when he comes out, "let's go and wait out on the landing dock for them."

"They're not going to land on top of us?"

Alex rolls his eyes. "I'll protect you. C'mon."

It's a little cooler out there, and Ryan puts his hands in his pockets and hunches into his blazer. He feels kind of sad, though he doesn't know why, maybe just that the past two days have been weird and good and something new, and Ryan wants to go to sleep with the quiet sound of Alex breathing next to him again.

"Hey," Alex says. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Ryan says. "Yeah, I just."

He shrugs a little, and Alex looks uncertain, and then puts his arm around Ryan's shoulder. Ryan sighs and leans into him, putting his hand in Alex's pocket instead of his. Alex smiles down at him, and doesn't move away.

They're talking about nothing in particular when suddenly there are spotlights thrown on Ryan's face, blinding him, and he says, "Ugh, fuck. Can you get Z to turn them off?"

"That's not Z," Alex says. He sounds tense and maybe, maybe, a little frightened underneath that.

Ryan squints, and the lights go dim a little, and then there's a fucking platoon of the Royal Guard coming towards them, all sixteen guns pointed at Alex.

"Don't move!" the guy leading them barks. He's got some sort of microphone hooked up, his voice amplified. "Release the prince immediately--"

Alex puts his hands up, taking a step to the side. Ryan breathes in sharply.

"Okay," Alex says. "Let's just -- everyone calm down--"

"Silence!" the commander yells. "We have a kill order--" and Alex's eyes are wide and huge and Ryan thinks, _holy shit_. He looks up at the sky and sees the familiar sweep of the ship, Z bringing it down, but there are also an awful lot of guns.

Ryan swings to the side, putting his hands on Alex's shoulders. "Give me your gun," he says urgently.

" _Release the Prince_!" the guy is screaming. Ryan's heart is going way too fast.

"Are you crazy," Alex says, eyes wide, and Ryan makes an impatient noise and grabs it, pulling one the pistols out from Alex's holster and swinging around, blocking Alex as best he can and pointing the pistol at the guy in charge.

"Back off," he says.

The commander looks faintly confused for the first time. "Your Highness--"

"I said _back off_ ," Ryan snarls, and reaches behind him with his free hand to grab Alex's hand.

The commander cocks his head to the side. "The Prince is under some sort of influence," he finally says, turning to his men. "Move forward--"

Ryan cocks the pistol and fires into the air three times. "Don't try me," he says. He's not sure how much time they have; he knows how to shoot a pistol, and his aim's okay, but not really brilliant. Plus he gets distracted easily, and if he leaves Alex open at all they'll kill him. Ryan knows how these guys work.

Alex leans out from behind Ryan and shoots at the feet of a few guys who are trying to sneak around to the side. Then there's a roaring sound behind them, and Alex has his hand on Ryan's hip, is leaning forward and saying urgently in Ryan's ear, "That's our ride, come on--"

"Okay," Ryan says, "don't, don't move away from me," and they start a nervous shuffle backwards.

"Careful," Alex says, and Ryan's foot hits the metal of the ship. He takes a step up, and then the military guys make one last rush at the ship but the doors are already closing, too fast.

"Quick," Ryan says, turning to Alex, "they won't blow it up with me on board, but they're going to shoot to keep you on the ground."

Alex is already leaning on the intercom button, giving Z orders in a sharp, strained voice. Ryan breathes out, looks down at his hands. They're kind of grimy, and he's still clutching Alex's pistol with a death grip.

A blast rattles the whole ship, and Ryan can feel it veering sideways even as they try to gain altitude. One of the engines, probably, and they can't be _that_ stupid, wouldn't dare do too much - but maybe, if they don't realize how old the ship is, how close it is to falling apart already, maybe they'll do worse than necessary.

Alex takes off at a run toward the bridge, and Ryan - Ryan just sits down where he is. He's breathing faster and more heavily than probably necessary, but he can't stop it, can't seem to get his breath slow and steady again. He doesn't know what he's doing.

He's met that commander personally on several occasions, and knows the names of a few of the members of that platoon and the faces of more of them. Ryan should have been happy to see them, should have left with them. Maybe he could have talked them down, convinced them to spare Alex and his crew. He could have done something else.

There's a lot of noise for a while, and eventually things quiet down, and Ryan's heart slows to something like normal. He stays where he is, and starts laughing when he realizes that he's holding onto that stupid stuffed animal. He thought - he wasn't meaning to hold onto it, isn't entirely sure how he managed that feat at all, but he's happy to have it, at least.

They've made it out of the atmosphere. Ryan wonders if there's a chase going on or anything. The engine sounds are kind of off, but Ryan doesn't know if that's because they're working harder than normal or because they're damaged or what.

He starts thinking about what they can do, or what he can do, at least, to keep the crew from getting killed. It's not his concern, really. They're a security threat, because if they managed to forge things well enough to get to Ryan in the first place - it was stupid and Ryan shouldn't have been alone anyway, not even for such a run of the mill royal inspection. One of his lesser family members probably should have handled it anyway, a nephew or something. It was a whole convergence of security flaws, and Ryan supposes, when he gets back, that things will be even more restrictive.

He sighs, shaking his head. He should go find out what the crew is doing, maybe. Or - maybe it's better to leave them alone. He doesn't know for sure, so he goes to his room - not his, he supposes, but still, easier to think of it that way - to leave the stuffed toy behind.

If he's going to be talking to the rest of them, it's probably better that they see him as at least _somewhat_ professional and regal.

He tries to neaten himself up a little - combs his hands through his hair, fusses with the collar of his shirt, straightens the tie he's wearing. He wants to look like he has at least some idea what he's doing, because maybe if he _looks_ like he does they'll believe him.

Ryan is a bit of an idealist, maybe.

Still.

Walking assures him the ship is moving, and doing a lot more maneuvering than is typically needed. Ryan keeps his feet well enough, though it's nowhere near as smooth a ride as he's used to.

Most of the crew is crowded around Z's chair, and Ryan hovers in the doorway uncertainly, not sure whether or not to go in or not. Eventually, though, Darren takes a step back and lets out a breath, and Alex says, "Nicely done, Z."

"Are we safe, then?" Ryan says, and the crew turn around.

They're all staring at him like he's grown another head or something, and Ryan shifts from foot to foot a little awkwardly, then remembers that he's trying to appear completely fine and straightens, tilting his chin up a little and smiling easily like it's a publicity shot.

"Okay," Z says, still hunched over the controls, "someone ask him what's going on, I'm busy."

"Right," Jeff says, and coughs politely. "Your Highness. What's going on?"

"That's what I came to ask you," Ryan says.

"Yes, but." Jeff raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

Ryan darts a glance at Alex. He's staring at Ryan, his eyes wide and dark.

"Um, well," Ryan says, "you know, you guys are evil and all but probably you shouldn't be shot."

Alex says, "You could have just walked over there--"

"It was all happening very fast," Ryan says defensively. "I got confused."

"You got confused between your rescue team and your kidnappers," Darren says, incredulous.

"Whatever, it's not like you guys are even any good at it," Ryan snaps. "I could have run away, like, _five_ times today, but I didn't, so there."

He turns on his heel and tries to make a dignified exit, but the part where most of the crew have started laughing a little hysterically behind him makes that difficult.

Things are still exciting enough that Ryan at least makes his exit without anyone following after him to continue making fun of him or whatever, which he's grateful for. He'd probably make fun of himself at least a little bit, and he can't begin to imagine how angry Spencer will be when he finds out. Ryan thinks he should call Spencer, let him know he's all right

Spencer will doubtless hear of today's little incident. Ryan owes him, because Spencer's let him keep a lot of secrets and kept a lot of secrets for him.

Not just yet, though. Things are still hectic and weird.

He wanders a bit, down on the lower level. There are some rooms he didn't properly explore, and then he manages to find the engine room. The sound in here roars dull and constant. Outside, its only barely noticeable but in here it's like wading through a wall of sound, and Ryan lets the door shut behind him and stands in the dim glow with his eyes closed, just listening.

He hears the door open behind him but ignores it. "Your Highness?" Darren says, incredulous.

"Hi," Ryan says.

"Did you need help with something?" Darren asks, warningly.

"No. I was just listening," Ryan says, turning to blink at him. "Sorry."

"Why are you here?"

Ryan shrugs. "It's loud?"

"No, I mean on the ship," Darren says.

"Oh," Ryan says. Eventually, he shrugs. "Because I am. I'm going to go to my r -- my prison cell. Where I am being held captive against my will."

"Uh-huh," Darren says, eyebrows going up.

Ryan says, "I want a nap."

Darren laughs, and Ryan's glad _someone_ gets his jokes. He wishes he had a little gold star sticker to press to Darren's forehead or something, or maybe make up a chart. He should suggest that to Alex to improve crew morale. If nothing else, it would be hilarious.

Ryan goes back to his room, and he really wants to talk to Alex but he figures that probably Alex is busy doing important captainly things. Now's a good time for that kind of thing.

Ryan wonders if meal times are going to be on schedule, what with the current extenuating circumstances. One of the engines, he noticed, wasn't going as fast as the other. The sound was sort of strange and unbalanced. He wonders if anyone else has figured it out yet, and figures probably so.

He's not sure how long he's been sitting there when Alex comes in. He's trying to think things through, but he's also trying to avoid trains of thought that make him uncomfortable or twitchy, so mostly he's ignoring the problems of the engine and what he's done and how much trouble he may or may not be in as best he can and focusing instead on meal times and whether or not fencing is cooler than pistols, and whether he should have threatened the platoon with his sword instead. It's a bit pointless having a sword if he doesn't get to use it.

He's relieved, anyway, when Alex comes in. Alex sits next to him on the bed and says, "Hey."

"Hi," Ryan says. "Is it dinner time?"

"In a while," Alex says. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," Ryan says.

Alex looks conflicted for a moment, and then he puts his hands out in front of himself, palms turned up to the ceiling. "Behold," he says.

Ryan waits for a while as Alex sits without moving, looking at Ryan with an expression that seems to indicate he is waiting for Ryan to be very impressed or something.

"I'm beholding," Ryan says eventually.

"No, behold _closer_ ," Alex says, and Ryan leans down a little and then Alex smushes one of his hands into Ryan's face, tugging at Ryan's hair and blocking his eyes, and Ryan yelps and laughs and tries to wriggle backwards.

"There," Alex says, and he has a chocolate bar in his other hand now.

"You just took that out of your pocket," Ryan says.

"I did not." Alex raises his eyebrows. " _Magic_ , Ryan."

"You distracted me," Ryan says. "Really grossly, too, you creep."

Alex starts laughing, and then doesn't stop. Ryan takes the chocolate bar and peels the wrapper back, waiting patiently for Alex to go back to normal again. It takes a couple of minutes, and Alex's shoulders are shaking. He breathes in ragged gulps.

"That was really stupid," he says. "Stupid and weird."

"I know," Ryan admits, quietly.

Alex looks up at him. "And also pretty cool."

"I think you mean heroic," Ryan says.

"I don't know why you did that," Alex says.

"I didn't want them to shoot you, or anything." Ryan shrugs, staring at his shoes. "I mean, you're not that evil."

"If you had -- you could have stopped them some other way," Alex says. "Won't they -- they _must_ be really fucking mad, Ryan."

"Yeah, but." Ryan laughs a little. "I'm the Prince, you know? It's not like they can fire me. Short of actually killing someone, I'm pretty sure I'm good."

"Or, well--"

"Don't come up with a bunch of crimes they could get me on," Ryan says. "Anyway, that. That's not one. Saving space pirates, you know, that's just interesting, that's the kind of -- of colorful fact they're going to put in my biography and stuff."

"Right," Alex says.

"Plus, you know," Ryan says. "You bought me lunch and stuff."

"Oh, right." Alex laughs a little, shaking his head. "Yeah, clearly the best way to repay that was resisting the military--"

"Hey," Ryan says, and nudges Alex a little. "I'll be fine, seriously." He hasn't even thought that would be something they cared about, but clearly Alex does: his eyes are bright with worry.

"Okay," Alex says.

"And it was worth it, anyway."

Alex shakes his head again. "I -- thanks."

"Yeah," Ryan says. "Don't get carried away, or anything. Your life is worth getting scolded by my best friend, but not much else, so, you know. Try not to get in trouble anymore."

"I've just got a renegade prince on board," Alex says. "What could possibly go wrong."

Ryan thinks about correcting Alex and reminding him that he's busy being kidnapped and stuff, but he likes the idea of being a renegade prince too much.

"I wish," Ryan says, "that I could live past when I die."

Alex blinks at him. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and he finally settles on just staring at Ryan with his eyebrows raised high.

"What?" Ryan says. "I want to know who'll play me in the movie."

Alex laughs. "Really? You want to transcend death so you can watch a movie about yourself."

"Well, I mean, there's bound to be one," Ryan says. "I wonder if - if this whole incident will have long-lasting repercussions. Maybe it'll be important enough to be a big part, I don't think my schooling was very interesting or anything."

"What, having thousands of people compete to design your official - ceremonial garb or whatever - isn't interesting?"

"You're laughing at me." Ryan points an accusatory finger at Alex. "I could have you tried for treason."

"Right, yes, _laughing_ at you is what would do me in there," Alex says, still laughing. He pitches his voice a bit funny. "Captain Greenwald, you are here before the court on one count of conspiracy and twelve counts of laughing at the prince when he's not using his joking voice. How do you plead?"

"So guilty." Ryan shakes his head. "I didn't _have_ to save you. Not if you're just going to make fun of me."

"You want to be immortal just to watch a movie about yourself, Ryan."

"Shut up. It's a great plan." His words lack much strength behind them. Ryan feels sort of warm and happy, hearing Alex say his name like that. There are only a few people who get to call him that with any regularity - Spencer, sometimes, though not in public; his father; his mother, when she shows up now and then. There have been a few times, like when he was courting the daughter of Senator Colleen, he asked her to use his real name.

Ryan doesn't know how much longer he'll be on-board, but he wonders about getting the rest of the crew to just call him Ryan, too. It's sort of funny having them use his title, though, because they can't really care about him being royalty _that_ much if they kidnapped him.

Alex says, "I wonder if I'll be the noble and dashing space pirate, or if I'll be some awful villain, warping your young mind."

Ryan's mouth goes up in a wry grin. "It'll probably depend on the director. And the historians."

"Shit." Alex laughs. "Never really thought I'd have a shot at making history."

"I think - everybody has that chance," Ryan says, slowly. "It just. Depends what they do with it. And sometimes, like - I was just born into it. But there are people who make it, right?"

"Yeah." Alex nods, slowly. "I didn't figure on doing that, either, is all."

"Right." Ryan nods, putting his arms behind him and leaning back a little, looking up at the smooth metal ceiling. "I could be a space pirate. That'd be history, too."

"A particularly stupid sort, yes."

"But I'd be making it," Ryan says. "Instead of - of letting myself be led into it. My place is kind of already written, yeah? I mean, however I handle major conflicts, that'll make a difference, I guess, but still. There's not even a guarantee I won't just rule over peacetime."

"Your life is so fucking weird," Alex says. "Anyway, we're - the ship probably isn't going to make it into atmosphere again, in this state, so we're heading for a space station just outside your rule."

Ryan blanches a little. "That bad?"

"It was already kind of." Alex waves a hand vaguely. "Anyway, we'll be fine for interstellar travel, but - you know. Gravity, re-entry. Probably not such good ideas just now."

Ryan frowns, sitting up straight again and then leaning over to examine Alex's face up close, like reading his expression will grant him some insight. "Do you have the money?"

Alex huffs out a breath. "Not really."

Ryan says, "If you'd told me -"

"Yeah, buying you lunch and shit wouldn't have made up the difference in cost," Alex says, putting an arm around Ryan's shoulder. Ryan wonders if he's trying to reassure Ryan or himself more. And Ryan supposes it's true, anyway, because repairs to the ship are going to be - Ryan doesn't know how much they'll cost, really, but orders of magnitude more. He almost wonders if -

"How attached to this ship are you?" Ryan asks.

Alex opens his mouth and then shuts it again, looking at Ryan and shaking his head. There's something incredulous about his expression. "Pretty attached," he says, finally.

"Oh, well." Ryan looks at his hands in his lap. "I mean, maybe you could just -- put it aside until you have the money to repair it."

"And until then?"

"I could probably work something out," Ryan says.

"What," Alex says, "oh my god, what, no."

"I'm just saying." Ryan shrugs. "I mean, it's mostly my fault the ship got banged up, anyway."

"Because we _kidnapped_ you."

"Yeah." Ryan grins at Alex. "You're doing a really great job at it, by the way. I just want to, you know, make sure your self-esteem is still okay. I'm feeling very kidnapped."

"Ryan, you can't _buy_ us a ship."

"Well, probably not," Ryan agrees. "They'll notice if I try to get to my funds from here, that'd just bring them down on us more. But I can, like -- make a fake hostage video or whatever asking Spencer to wire us some funds. Or you'll kill me."

"It wouldn't be fake," Alex says, in a slightly choked voice. "You're a hostage."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember." Ryan pats Alex on the back in a comforting sort of way. He feels a little bad for insinuating that they weren't good at kidnapping, just before. "Anyway, we can do that. But the money might be tracked."

"You think?"

"Or," Ryan says, "well, I mean. What's the bet if I dress up a bit and go in they'll just give me a ship?"

"Ryan," Alex says.

Ryan puts his hands on Alex's shoulders, trying to look at him very seriously. He keeps wanting to smile. "Alex," he says, "I haven't gotten to be princely in, like, almost a week. I mean, beyond being princely all the time, which I am, obviously. Please let me steal a ship."

"You're so weird," Alex says, laughing a little. He drops his head down to rest on Ryan's shoulder, and when he turns his head his mouth is against Ryan's collar and Ryan can feel Alex's breath, warm against his skin. He tries to sit normally.

"Is that a yes?" Ryan says, hopefully.

\---

They decide it's best to act like this has been their plan all along, so Ryan will need to be ready by the time they touch down on the space station. Ryan gets dressed in a hybrid of his old clothes -- the jacket still works, and the tall boots, even if the shirt is a bit smelly and the pants have mud stains on the knees from when Ryan tried to jump off the swing like Alex -- and his new ones, with Alex adding commentary from where he's sprawled out on the back.

"My hair won't sit right," Ryan says, making a face in the mirror and swiping his hand over it.

"I think you need a hat," Alex says.

"Oooh." Then Ryan shakes his head, sighing, slumping a little. "I never wear hats in the official photos and stuff, we want them to recognise me."

"I thought you wore a hat on one of those stamps, once."

"I did!" Ryan turns around and beams at Alex. "I loved that hat. I made it myself."

"Really?" Alex blinks.

"Well, I made the flower," Ryan says. "It was pretty cool."

"Yeah," Alex says. "I thought it was cool."

"Thanks," Ryan says. "How do you know it, anyway?"

"Even space pirates use stamps, Ryan," Alex says solemnly, and Ryan laughs. "Also we did research and stuff."

"Yeah," Ryan says. "It would have been terrible if you tried to kidnap me and I was wearing a hat so you didn't recognise me."

"That was our reasoning."

"Anyway," Ryan says. "Old stamps aside--"

"Yeah, no hat." Alex stands up and comes over to him, starts pushing his hands through Ryan's hair and looking very intent and serious, a little furrow on his brow. Ryan figures it's okay to just stand and look at Alex's face, because it's not like he can do much else. When Alex steps back and smiles at him, it takes Ryan a moment to smile back.

His hair looks exactly the same.

\---

They get Z and Tennessee and Annie and Laena to dress up in their most impressive clothes, and then Ryan leads the way off the ship, trying to look foreboding and authoritative. Alex is just a little bit behind him, flanking his right, and Ryan works hard not to crack up laughing.

They look pretty impressive. A guy working at the station appears in front of them, looking faintly bewildered. "Can we help you, sir?"

"Address His Royal Highness with the respect accorded to him," Z snaps. Ryan does his best haughty look.

"Your Highness, sir," the guy says, standing to attention though looking no less bewildered once recognition dawns properly. "Are you all right, Your Highness?"

"My crew and I will need a ship," Ryan says. "Immediately. I am hereby commandeering your finest available vessel, under the authority granted me by section three of statute 7918-B. You will be duly compensated for your cooperation, and. I trust you know the local law well enough to realize what will happen if you choose not to comply."

The poor station staffer looks even more confused, now, says, "I'm just a janitor, Your Highness, let me - go get the station manager, okay? - uh, sir?"

"Understood," Ryan says, crossing his arms. "We will await your return."

\---

There's a lot of scurrying, and Ryan has to make a few arguments on his own behalf - _technically_ the station is just outside of territory under his rule, but it's staffed almost entirely by loyalists, and is right on the border of free space and that under the Ross family's domain.

It's the fact of just compensation guaranteed by word of the royal prince that gets them the ship, one of last year's models. It's got the same amount of space for the crew, but a larger bridge, and the latest in operating and navigational systems.

The new ship isn't _quite_ as nice as Ryan's personal flagship, but it'd be hard to match that.

Ryan does a very cursory inspection before declaring that, "This will do nicely, thank you," and making sure everything gets loaded on board before anybody at the station can call home and get the whole operation derailed.

When they get everything loaded on board - thankfully, there wasn't much cargo on Alex's old ship - they make sure no one's snuck aboard to try their hand at heroism or whatever. Ryan isn't entirely sure, but he figures it's better safe than sorry, anyway, and helps double-check, and they manage to take off without much further fuss except for Ryan to sign some paperwork assuring that the ship will be paid for.

He figures his family can afford to foot the bill.

\---

"Oh my god," Z says, bouncing up and down. "Have you tried my chair, Alex? No, don't get near it, you creep, it is only for me, oh my god, this is the best in the world."

"The engines are purring," Darren says, a little bewildered. "I didn't think engines actually did that. I thought it was a dream from when I was at school."

"Just because you were high all the time," Alex says. "C'mon, guys, the old ship wasn't that bad."

"I am going to _sleep_ in my chair," Z announces. "Stop complaining, Alex, this is great. I think we should elect Ryan our captain instead of you. Can we do that?"

"Technically I'm already your monarch," Ryan says. "It might be overkill."

"You all suck," Alex says, but he's grinning, too, and he keeps touching the walls with this odd, gentle delight. Ryan figures he's done good. He's pretty sure. The station staff locked the old ship up in one of the hangars and promised it wouldn't be touched, but Ryan has taken the only key with him all the same, just to make sure they don't find out what happened and decide to destroy it or anything. Even if this ship is so much better, Ryan doesn't want to lose Alex's ship.

"Okay, so," Alex says. "Annie, you gonna get on the tracking equipment?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be too hard," Annie says. "I've worked with an earlier model on this line, so."

"Cool," Alex says. "Do it fast, though, yeah? I don't know how long it will take them to realize they've been had--"

"I can't believe they're not showing me missing on the news and stuff," Ryan says. "You'd think they know."

"Space stations get things a little out of date, sometimes," Alex says. "Satellite interference all around or something, I don't know, you'd have to ask Jeff. But anyway, it means they might not have gotten the news, or they might have just gotten it and figured when you showed up that it was old news." His mouth twitches. "You were very foreboding and all, they might not have dared ask."

Ryan nods, pleased with himself. "I was very foreboding," he says.

The crew cracks up.

"Your monarch!" Ryan reminds them. "Your monarch who just _bought you a ship_ , c'mon, guys--"

"As if you bought it," Alex says. "That's stealing, come on, you're no better than us."

"It'll get paid for," Ryan says, with a bit of a sulk. "I mean, I signed my name. That's - it's perfectly valid."

"You signed your name to steal it," Alex says. "Like, I, Prince George Ryan Ross the Second, hereby authorize myself to steal a spaceship from some poor guys on a station who don't know what the fuck."

Ryan says, "I'm allowed to do that kind of thing. When I am in danger, it is - required that my subjects grant me access to such materials and equipment as are deemed reasonable, including the usage of interstellar craft should it become necessary."

Z says, "So you're allowed to steal."

"I'm allowed to _requisition materials_ ," Ryan says.

"They call that stealing, where I come from," Tennessee says, sweetly.

"All of you - you're awful. You're terrible people. With the kidnapping and skulduggery."

"Skulduggery?" Alex asks, incredulous and delighted all at once. "Did you just use that word, really?"

Ryan says, "I am going to go - stake out quarters for myself. You can all be ungrateful up here on your own. Without me. I don't mind."

At this point, Ryan's mostly given up on being serious. He's kind of relieved that everyone laughs, this time, even though he isn't quite sure everyone has learned to distinguish when he's trying to be funny. He _does_ want first pick at quarters, though; right now everyone's things are sort of haphazardly dumped in the cargo bay because they were in a bit of a hurry getting onboard and ready to go.

The station crew offered help loading the ship, but they tried to avoid that as much as possible. Settling in will likely take a bit, but Ryan figures that's all right.

Ryan is sort of relieved the crew quarters already have beds and mattresses and everything, because that could have gotten unpleasant fast. There are more rooms down on the lower level off the cargo bay, intended as passenger space, and there's a big and proper sick bay. It's a lot of the same as Alex's ship, but - more of it, and newer.

The locks work, too, which Ryan worries about slightly but decides it's best to just ignore for now. Hopefully now that he's gotten the crew a ship, they won't try to lock him up, not that it did any good before either.

A dilemma faces Ryan, though, as he tries to decide if it's fair of him to take the largest room, obviously intended as the captain's quarters. The door even says it, proudly announcing it as THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS in capital letters. All the other rooms are a bit smaller, and basically identical to one another except the occasional slightly flipped layout - the bed on one wall instead of the other or whatever.

Also, THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS have a private bathroom. With a shower. Ryan is pretty sure Alex won't appreciate having a private shower. He wonders if he can take the sign off the door, maybe. Ryan doesn't _want_ to be in charge, and doesn't really want people joking about it, either, because he'll have plenty of time for nominal rule later on in life.

Unless he renounces the throne or something, but.

He wanders in a little further, poking around the bathroom and then going back into the main bedroom. He's pretty sure the station crew would approve of him taking this room, but maybe their approval isn't actually the one he needs. He wonders what would happen if this was an actual ship that he was being taken on for legal purposes, what the Captain would do. Probably he wouldn't be expected to give up his own room, but Ryan doesn't think many ships come equipped with an Emergency Prince Bedroom.

Ryan flops down on the bed and sighs, wriggling a little. It's really comfortable, and the bed linen is pretty opulent -- not the best he's ever been on, but high enough up there. Maybe top twenty.

"I thought I might find you here," Alex says, sounding amused, and Ryan opens his eyes.

"I thought I could hurry to get the sign off," he says.

"I already checked the rooms out," Alex says, still smiling, and comes over to flop on the bed beside Ryan. "Nice try, though."

"Thanks," Ryan says.

"I mean," Alex says, "you could always just point out your royal right to the best room."

"I could," Ryan agrees. "You could always just lock me up."

"I could." Alex nods a little, and then he rolls over with a sigh, pressing his face against Ryan's outspread arm and draping one arm over Ryan's chest. His hip bumps against Ryan's, and Ryan thinks it's odd, how you can stand next to someone all the time and not feel like you're too close, but this is so different. Ryan hopes Alex isn't close enough that he can feel Ryan's heartbeat, which is a little faster than normal.

"Thank you," Alex says, muffled a little, and Ryan crooks his arm up so that he can touch Alex's hair, feeling almost tentative. It's just soft, though, and Alex makes an odd, cheerful little noise, tapping his fingers against Ryan's ribs.

"For attempting to steal your room?" Ryan asks.

"For getting me a room," Alex says.

"Well, hey." Ryan turns his head to the side, smiling down at the bit of Alex's face he can see peeking through Alex's hair. "You got me a room, too."

"Fairness is important, huh?"

"Very important." Ryan wonders what Alex thinks he's doing, but Alex doesn't seem to be interested in explaining or doing anything beyond curling up a little closer at Ryan's side. "I just -- I tell you because, you know, I'm aware not everyone got the moralistic education I did."

"Right," Alex says, his voice still muffled and happy.

"I think Prince School and Pirate School must be a little different," Ryan says.

"Hey, man, c'mon," Alex says, "I didn't go to school. This is all intuition."

"Right," Ryan says. "Intuition that led you to think kidnapping the Royal Prince was a good idea."

Alex turns his face just slightly, enough that Ryan can see his grin, crooked and happy. "It worked out okay," he says.

\---

"Your Highness! Could you pass the peas, please?" Z is smiling, but she looks sort of crafty. Ryan doesn't trust that look. He hands over the bowl, though.

"Nice alliteration," he tells her earnestly, because it was pretty decent. There was a rhyme in there. Ryan is easily amused.

Z says, "Do you think we can keep the ship?"

"Yes," Ryan says. "Except probably you'll want the old one back. When you get the money to repair it."

"Yes," Alex says. "That, exactly."

"I like this one," Jeff says, a bit vaguely.

"The engines," Darren says, and it seems like he's going to finish the thought - everyone looks at him, just waiting for an actual sentence, but he doesn't go on. "That's it. The engines."

"Go jerk off about how great the engines are in your quarters," Sam says. "No one wants to hear it."

"But they're—"

"No," Sam says.

"Well, then," Darren says, and makes like he's standing up. Annie cackles with delight, and Sam starts laughing, too. It's all very pleasant. Ryan is a fan of this ship.

He's a fan of the old ship, too. Mostly he's just enjoying himself an awful lot for a kidnapping.

"Oh, hey," Z says. "New ship and all, do you think - I know we did all that reconnaissance and everything, but we should be all set. No one'll recognize us."

"Except how we're the exact same crew," Alex says. "But yeah, should make things a bit easier."

"Hmm," Jeff says, thoughtfully, like he's considering saying something until he eyes Ryan and decides against it.

"What," Ryan says. "What's going on, now? I mean, obviously, not having such a ridiculously obvious ship will help keep us from getting - arrested or whatever."

"Well, yeah, there's that," Alex says. "So - look, okay. Ryan."

"Yes," Ryan says.

"We were sort of. Trying to figure out how to un-kidnap you? Obviously we can continue holding you hostage as necessary, but we were figuring on how not to turn you over to Urie and Valdes, basically, and like Z was saying, it's probably going to be a little easier to get by laying low in a new ship for a while."

"Ah," Ryan says, staring at him. Alex is at the head of the table, and Z's sitting at his right hand, but Ryan's right across from her, so when he smiles he's able to nudge Alex in the ankle with his foot. It's a convenient sort of proximity. Ryan would go for a hug, but he kind of thinks that might be a little weird, even for him.

\---

Ryan doesn't _mean_ to eavesdrop, later, but he's up late at night - they're still figuring out the game plan, but resting on it for the night or whatever. Everyone should be in bed, except he wanders up to the bridge just to see if he can figure out how to get the main screen to display the stars out in front of them.

He just wants to watch space as they voyage through it; that's always been one of his favorite things, on any long journey.

Before getting onto the bridge, though, he hears voices, low and comfortable -

"You're calling His Highness _Ryan_ now, huh?" Z's saying.

"He said I could," Alex says.

"Really."

"We played chess," Alex says. "I probably earned it by being a worthy adversary."

"Uh-huh."

Alex and Z exchange a look and then they start talking about something Ryan doesn't understand, coordinates and some deal with Perini that has a lot of codewords in it. Ryan thinks he should probably go away, but he can't help lingering for a moment longer, wondering what it would be like to understand this conversation, what it means. He supposes some part of being un-kidnapped implies going home. Ryan's really, really glad that he's not going to be falling into Urie and Valdes's hands, after all. It's silly that some part of him feels kind of unhappy.

He wanders off, but he's not ready to sleep, yet, isn't even sure what room he's been put in. Instead he goes into the new spacious living room type of thing they have, with big cushiony couches and chairs and a sound and video system. Ryan turns on the screen for a second, but it's a serious presenter saying, "In political news, the Royal Family remains in turmoil, with—" and Ryan switches it off again. He's not in the mood just now.

"Hey," Alex says, and Ryan looks up.

He makes a face. "I thought I was being sneaky."

"Very sneaky," Alex says, nodding and coming into the room. "If you hadn't tripped over the step on your way out, I'm sure Z and I would never have noticed."

Ryan sighs, shrugging. "One day I'll get there."

"One day." Alex drops into a chair, too, kicking his legs over the arm. "Can't you sleep?"

"Haven't tried, yet," Ryan says. "It's early still, right?"

"I guess."

"So," Ryan says, trying to keep his face impassive. "Being un-kidnapped, what does that entail?"

Alex makes an apologetic face. "I didn't want to tell you and get your hopes up, or anything," he says. "Because it -- it could take a while."

"Hopes duly quashed," Ryan says. "Go on."

"It could be quick, too," Alex says. "It really depends. The thing is -- Urie and Valdes, they can be kind of a little, uh. Possessive. How much do you know about them?"

"Enough," Ryan says. "Wanted on a whole bunch of charges, but they're pretty good at slipping out of our hands. Fraud, kidnapping, suspected murder – we have a bit of trouble pinning that on them."

"Well, yeah," Alex says. "That about covers it. They're pretty pissed at us just now for not holding up our end of the bargain? Even though we didn't take their money, so, whatever. But it just means that they're keeping an eye out for us, and for you, and any route we take is going to be pretty circuitous and stuff."

"Right," Ryan says.

"And then, I mean, we drop you off and scurry away as fast as we can." Alex laughs, shrugging a little. "That's not the most brilliant part of the plan, but, you know. We'll steer clear of your grand monarchy for a while, try and wait it out until your dad forgets we kidnapped you and all."

"Or the military, more to the point," Ryan says. "My dad's not that foreboding all on his own."

"Right," Alex says. "He's just -- the king and everything." He shakes his head, looking sort of startled for a moment.

"What?" Ryan frowns.

"It's just weird, sometimes," Alex says. "Z was talking about -- it's just weird, because, you know. You're a prince. On my ship. How does that even work?"

"It's your ship already, huh?" Ryan grins at him, and Alex laughs again, still looking sort of pleased and surprised.

"I've got a fleet now," Alex says, cheerfully. "Two ships."

"Except one's docked at a space station you have to avoid."

"Still a fleet," Alex says, shaking his head. "Don't take my dreams from me."

Ryan lifts his chin up. "It's impolite to lie. I couldn't do that to you."

"Oh, well, then."

Ryan sort of wishes he'd sat on the couch instead of a chair, because then maybe they could. Be sitting next to each other. Or whatever. Ryan is kind of charmed by the drama of the whole situation, and thinks maybe later he should ask and make sure the crew doesn't have any radical political ideologies. No one's mentioned anything, but Ryan would be pretty excited to maybe join up with a rebellion or whatever, make a little history.

"You know," Ryan says, thoughtfully. "If there weren't enough quarters, people would have had to share."

"We would have survived, somehow," Alex says. "Though I would be pretty annoyed, since _my_ ship had plenty of space. It's theoretical, anyway, since there's plenty of room."

"Well, yeah, but," Ryan says. "But if - your crew would be pretty put-out, I think. I wouldn't want them to threaten mutiny. I'd have shared your quarters with you to appease them."

"To—" Alex starts laughing.

"What? I'm noble." Ryan frowns as sharply as he can, trying to look disapproving, but that just makes Alex laugh more. "I am!"

"Right, right, sorry," Alex says, trying to catch his breath. "But seriously. It's so weird. How are you a prince?"

"By blood and birthright."

Alex is quiet for a moment, then laughs again, more delighted than before. "I finally figured out your joking voice!"

"Shut up," Ryan says. "I was kidding about that. I don't need a joking voice. I'm very clever."

"Oh, sure," Alex nods. "Of course you are. And _weird as hell_."

Ryan rises to his feet, gives Alex a haughty look, and starts to walk out of the room, only Alex catches his wrist as he passes and Ryan grins, dropping back to sit neatly on Alex's lap. Actually, with the way Alex is sprawled out across the chair, Ryan is more sitting on half his stomach, but in any case he has achieved his objective and with Alex none the wiser.

"I'm lovely," Ryan says, still trying to keep the affronted tone in his voice.

"Lovely, right," Alex says, still laughing a little. "And noble."

"You've got it," Ryan says.

"I don't." Alex shakes his head, smiling in a confused sort of way at Ryan. "Why were you even considering the hypothetical?"

"The what?"

"What we'd do," Alex says, "if there weren't enough quarters, or whatever your hackneyed reasoning was."

"It's good to be prepared," Ryan says. "Boy Scouts told me so."

"You were in the Boy Scouts?" Alex looks unduly cheered by this thought.

"Well, no," Ryan admits. "I wanted to be, but they were worried about safety and all of that, so. I did find out the motto, though."

"And it looks like you took it to heart," Alex says seriously. "Like, right now, you're prepared for if that old chair you were sitting on randomly blows up."

"I know," Ryan says. "I'm the prince, these things happen. No one will ever expect me to be in your chair."

"Those anti-royalists must be kicking themselves," Alex says.

"I like to let them think they're going to win now and then," Ryan says. "But then, you know. Retreat to safety at the last minute."

"My lap being safe."

Ryan leers at him. Alex stares for a second and then cracks up laughing, perhaps a little more amused than Ryan is entirely happy with. Still, he figures laughter is better than intense discomfort or whatever. He leans back against the seat, draping one arm over Alex's knees.

"Why did you make a deal with Valdes and Urie, anyway?" he asks.

Alex looks a little guilty. "Is it really shitty of me to say money?"

"No, I got that much." Ryan rolls his eyes. "It just seems like you don't like them much."

"Well, no. They're crazy."

"So why make a deal with them?"

"Our engines have been failing for a while," Alex says, quietly. "Like, the hits we took from that platoon were the death sentence, but we've been calling it a bit too close for luck for a couple of months now. The thing is, you can take a lot of little jobs, but that money gets eaten up steadily in fuel and food, and it makes saving difficult. It's better if you can get all the cash in one big hit, and then just go hungry for a couple of weeks, knowing exactly how long it's going to be until you can eat again, rather than cutting corners for some indefinite period of time."

"Right," Ryan says. "And Valdes and Urie were the only way?"

"No, but offers of money that large are hard to come by, and hard to scout out," Alex explains. "We didn't have to go looking for them. They contacted us."

"Really?" Ryan's intrigued, despite himself. "I thought they were all about the vigilante, working alone mindset."

"I don't know," Alex says honestly. "So much of the stuff about them is rumors, it's hard to know what's true and what other people have made up and what they've spread themselves. We just got an invitation to meet on neutral ground, and then they told us the deal."

"Why did they want me?"

"Ransom." Alex sighs when Ryan raises an eyebrow at him. "They said, anyway. Honestly? I don't know. They didn't seem like they were going to torture you or anything, though. I promise we're not that evil."

"Okay," Ryan says. "If you could kidnap me, why didn't you just do that in the beginning for the ransom?"

Alex laughs. "You been thinking about this a bit, Ross?"

"I'm just trying to make sense of your various crimes," Ryan tells him.

"We don't have the tools for negotiation," Alex says. "We don't have a safe ground that we can make sure we're not caught on -- Valdes and Urie, their space station moves around, but it's built like a fortress. That's why your mob haven't been able to shut them down all this time. And we're pretty small-time, too, like, the military probably wouldn't consider us enough of a threat. And kidnapping's not really our thing, anyway, we wouldn't have come up with it on our own."

"Okay." Ryan's quiet for a little while, liking the way Alex is tapping his finger in a rhythm on Ryan's knee, seemingly without realizing it. Finally, he asks, "Are they really as crazy as everyone says?"

"Oh, man." Alex laughs shortly, shaking his head. "They're worse."

"Yeah?"

"They'd almost be funny," Alex says, "like, they're totally fixated on each other in this really creepy way, except for how you get the feeling that they know a whole bunch of really inventive ways of killing you, and they'd totally do it if you even looked at them funny. They're -- seriously, they're fucking insane. I regretted agreeing to see them the moment we arrived, but you can't really walk out on a deal with them."

"You did, though," Ryan says.

"Yeah, well." Alex tilts his head to the side, smiling. "I got all fond of you and shit. Thought it probably wasn't best to dump you on some psychopaths and run."

"That's considerate of you," Ryan says. He's smiling kind of dopily, he knows, and he looks away deliberately.

"Anyway," Alex says. "That's it, interrogation over? Was that bedtime story good enough for you?"

"It'll do," Ryan says. "Now I just need to find a bed."

\---

 **SOMEWHERE, NOT SO FAR AWAY:**

"It's too bad," Brendon says, thoughtfully, shifting his hand a little on Shane's hip, "that we didn't get hold of the prince."

"It would have been fun," Shane agrees.

"And exciting," Brendon nods, cheerfully, pushing his hand up under Shane's shirt. "Oh, man. We could've—"

"Corrupted him—"

"And warped his impressionable young mind," Brendon finishes, beaming. "Yes. Exactly. How _ever_ did you know?"

Shane shrugs, doing a decent job of looking friendly and - if not innocent, then at least not guilty of anything. Brendon snorts a laugh and dances his fingers along Shane's side, making Shane laugh and squirm away a little bit. Not too much.

"Stop - that, c'mon, good. Thank you. There's still time, you know. Apparently they haven't even given him back yet."

"Stupid," Brendon says, a little sadly.

"So stupid," Shane agrees, his voice a bit more pleasant. "But we'll -"

"Hunt them down," Brendon says, nodding.

"And get what's ours."

\---

Ryan finds a room of his own and settles in happily. He doesn't have much of anything to move in with him, so once he picks out a room he can pretty much stay there. A couple of rooms have been taken in the intervening time, because he sort of slacked off on finding one, so after three locked doors in a row he just goes to claim the very last room for himself. It's right by a ladder down to the lower level, and thus near the cargo hold and sick bay at once.

Ryan figures if he gets - space sick or whatever, he can go down there. Not that they have a real doctor, near as he knows, but maybe they do. He still isn't clear on just what all of the crew _do_. Mostly, it just seems like a bunch of friends wandering around living a sort of ill-defined but not-that-evil pirate life.

Everyone's been pretty friendly so far, at least, which Ryan appreciates. There could be far, far worse kidnappings. Those would be worth a bit of drama, too, but - it's more comfortable this way, as Ryan strips off his dirty clothes and wriggles into bed. He's got the same sort of sheets as Alex does. Probably all the beds have the same linens, but still, Ryan grins about it anyway. They are very nice sheets.

Ryan sleeps peacefully that night.

\---

The next morning is sort of nice, too, because Ryan opens his door without any trouble or fuss. As the one who commandeered this vessel, it's only right the crew should accord him that sort of respect. Or maybe they've just figured out he isn't all that intent on running.

He knows _eventually_ he'll have to go home, but he's all right with delaying it, a little. He hasn't had even a little bit of illicit romance yet on this outing, and thinks that he is really about due.

This morning, Ryan manages not to get lost even though it's an entirely new ship - the layout is reasonably similar, plus there are _signs_ pointing toward major rooms - a downward arrow for the cargo and sick bay, one off in one direction for the engine room, the other direction for dining and the bridge. It's great. Ryan appreciates the direction.

"There are even signs," Tennessee's saying enthusiastically as Ryan gets to the kitchen/dining area, and he grins, feeling sort of validated. "Alex. Please say we can keep it?"

"It followed us home," Darren says. "We promise we'll feed it and take it on walks every day."

"You won't have to do anything," Jeff adds, eyes wide. "We'll take care of everything."

"All right," Alex says. "But if you guys just get bored of it or whatever, I'm giving it to some kids who will love it properly and responsibly."

"You're the best!" Tennessee says, and they all start giggling.

"Morning," Ryan says.

"Your Highness!" Tennessee turns around to beam at him. "Did you know the ship _makes you breakfast_?"

Ryan blinks. "Really?" He wonders if that's common. Most of the time he gets breakfast brought to him. Often in bed. He thinks about suggesting that Alex get on this but figures he should work on the first stage of his grand space romance first. Alex looks good this morning, leaning back against the wall a little and pushing his hair out of his face, and something squirms in Ryan's stomach. He nods a little to himself, feeling pretty firm about his plan.

"What do you want?" Tennessee asks.

"Um. Toast?"

Tennessee scoffs. "Boring," she says. "But okay, so." She walks over to a little blue screen next to the fridge and says, firmly, "Toast."

"Burnt, medium, or rare?" the screen chirps.

Tennessee looks at Ryan.

"Medium," Ryan says.

"What choice of condiment would you like?" The machine sounds almost manically cheery as it starts running through the options, and Ryan interrupts it as soon as he can.

"Strawberry jam," he says.

"One moment!" The machine sounds very eager to get Ryan's breakfast to him. He's a little disconcerted.

He looks over at Alex, just to be sure nothing has gone terrifyingly wrong. Alex does jazz hands and beams.

The machine makes a dinging little noise, says happily, "Task completed," and pushes out a tray of toast with strawberry jam.

"I will love this ship _forever_ ," Tennessee says in a hushed, reverent voice.

\---

"So," Ryan says, cornering Alex in the kitchen and bumping his hip against Alex's. He smiles at Alex, up through his eyelashes, which he has been told is fairly effective.

Alex blinks at him. "Hi?"

"Hey." Ryan smiles some more. "What are we doing today?"

"We still have one or two jobs we should probably finish," Alex says. "Real quick stuff, though. We got a little behind."

"Yeah," Ryan says, nodding. "I'm sorry about that."

"Eh," Alex says. He was going through the graphical version of the ship's menu - what all it can prepare with the ingredients they've given it and everything. He goes back to that, looking at the myriad varieties of toast available to them in a bit of a daze.

"I hope this ship is okay," Ryan says, hooking a finger through one of Alex's belt loops. "You can just - use it to earn the money to fix your old one, while you wait for things to blow over."

Alex is giving him kind of a weird look, and Ryan isn't exactly a master of reading Alex's expressions yet. It's somewhere between confused and thoughtful, Ryan reckons. "My crew's going to end up liking you more than me."

"Are not," Ryan says. Then, "What? Why?"

"They're all kind of in love with this ship," Alex says, laughing. "I - the old one, I bought when I was nineteen. It was already kind of - it was made back in '23, you know?"

"Damn." Ryan's wide-eyed look of surprise is entirely earnest and unintentional. He takes a half-step back, though, squinting at Alex distrustfully. "Wait, how old are you?"

"Oh, forty nine," Alex says, cheerfully, then starts laughing at Ryan's horrified expression.

"What -"

"No," Alex says. "It was _made_ back in '23, I didn't _buy_ it in '23. I've had it for about eleven years now, though. If that helps."

Ryan pauses to consider. "Thirty?"

"Yup," Alex says. "That will be on the exam later, so take note."

"Okay." Ryan nods, and Alex starts laughing again. "I - no, I know that was a joke, shut up, I was just. Thirty. At least you aren't a creepy old man."

"You seriously thought I was going on fifty?" Alex asks, a bit legitimately distressed.

"Of course not."

"You did," Alex says, accusingly. "You totally did, you weirdo. Come on. What fifty year old looks as good as me? I'm youthful."

"Right," Ryan says, stealthily removing his hand from Alex's belt loop so that he can rub Alex's back soothingly. "That's why I was so confused."

"Obviously, if I were any older, I'd be basically a fossil," Alex says. "And not worth conversing with."

"Also, it would make my kidnapping much creepier," Ryan says.

"What -- I didn't kidnap you for nefarious purposes," Alex says, wounded. "I only wanted you for the money."

"Oh," Ryan says. "Right, I forgot."

Alex looks at him and does a bit of a double take. "Are you -- what, are you pouting at me?"

"No," Ryan says quickly.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex says, laughing a little. "I should never have implied that, in the case that I was twenty years older, I would not want to kidnap you in order to do creepy and illegal things."

"Oh, man." Ryan grins and shakes his head. "There was this dude who came to our court, right?"

"Your _court_?" Alex echoes, sounding incredulous.

"Our court, whatever, shut up, I'm telling you a story," Ryan says. "Anyway. He was pretty great, he was playing some shows around the capital and one of my cousins wanted to see him so he ended up playing for us all, and they were good songs, but, but there was this one, that was all about loving someone so much that you wanted to keep them in your basement forever."

Alex laughs. "That sounds great."

"It was," Ryan says.

"Anyway, well, rest assured," Alex says, "there were no basements on my old ship. Or this one, presumably."

"That's good to know," Ryan says. He leans a little closer against Alex's side. "I mean, I trust you and all, but it's nice to know that should you succumb to a sudden evil side there's not a great outlet for it."

"Yeah," Alex says. "Plus, you know, at this stage my crew would probably get cross at me for locking you up, whatever."

"Pity," Ryan says idly.

Alex blinks at him. Ryan grins and straightens and wanders off to go find something else to do for a while.

\---

He ends up going back down to the cargo hold and bringing up the last few things that they've left down there. Most of the crew have already made signs to pin up against their door, and Ryan knows enough of the in jokes now to be able to guess whose is whose and leave their gear outside appropriately.

He finds Alex's comm device tucked inside the pocket of his old blazer and hesitates for a moment before he lets himself into the Captain's Quarters and puts it neatly on the dresser. Hopefully Alex won't have missed it too much. Ryan feels a little guilty about taking it now, which is stupid, because he was kidnapped and everything, but whatever.

While he's in Alex's room he goes over to the closet and takes out one of Alex's scarves and puts it on, just to see how long it will take anyone to notice. Then he goes and finds a book to read for a while.

After that, Ryan heads up to the bridge to find Z, who, he is pretty sure, is the hardest worker on the ship. Alex provides leadership or whatever, Ryan supposes, and Darren had a lot more to do on the old ship - things actually needed fixing, whereas this ship, so far, is in perfect working order and knows how to make breakfast.

Even Z's slacking off a bit, though, very quietly practicing on the guitar. She looks very content in her chair.

Ryan thinks Z is all right, but also figures she'll be the best source of insider knowledge or whatever. Though probably he'll have to win it out of her with his charms and wiles and whatever. "Hey, Z," he says quietly, hoping not to interrupt.

"Your Highness," she says, a little surprised, her fingers stilling on the fret board. "Hello. Here to steal the comfiest chair on the ship?"

"It wouldn't be stealing," Ryan says, faking grumpiness, though his tone's probably mild enough to be mistaken for the usual monotone. "I am allowed to requisition such materials as are necessary for my safety. The safety of my poor, tired legs probably counts, too."

"Well, there's always the floor," Z tells him cheerfully.

Ryan decides that's not such a bad idea, because he can sort of - sit next to the chair and cross his arms on the armrest. He has to sit up a bit taller than usual, but it isn't too uncomfortable and gives Z the strategic advantage in the conversation or whatever. Ryan will let her think she's in charge, and possibly that will get him better answers. "So, hey."

"Hey," she says, then adds, "... Your Highness."

"What all do we have with us, in the way of food?"

"Pretty much the same as before," Z says. "But the ship came stocked with a lot of condiments, as you heard. More bread. Jeff claims there's a hydroponics system somewhere, but I haven't found it yet."

"Oooh," Ryan says. "Fresh vegetables."

"Instead of frozen," Z agrees. "Why, hungry? You could always just check with the computer."

"Yeah, no, I know," Ryan says. "I was just wondering if. We have the ingredients for - what's Alex's favorite food, anyway?"

Z peers at him for a moment, scrunching up her nose a bit. "Why?"

"We should have a nice dinner tonight," Ryan says seriously. "As a celebration of freedom and not having to cook."

"Sure," Z says.

"Anyway. Alex's favorite food. C'mon. Tell me."

"Is that a royal decree? Am I required by law to give up my captain's deepest secrets?"

"Yes," Ryan says.

"Oh, well, in that case." Ryan leans forward hopefully and Z laughs, says, "What, no, come on."

"It's just his favorite meal," Ryan says. "You're being very strange. Is it -- human flesh, or something, is that what it is?"

"No," Z says. "Fine, okay, hotpots with tofu."

"Right," Ryan says. He cocks his head to the side. "Do you think the ship has tofu?"

Z strokes a loving hand over the sleek silver controls. "The ship has everything," she says.

"Okay," Ryan says. He hums a little, watching Z make minute adjustments to the steering.

"What," Z says, finally. "Are you going to ask me about his girlfriend next or something?"

Ryan sits up straight. "He has a girlfriend?"

Z stares at him for a moment. Then she starts to laugh.

Ryan scowls. "I could have you killed, you know," he says. "It would be no trouble. No one would ever know."

"Oh my god," Z says. "I just can't believe -- your _face_. Like I cancelled Christmas _forever_."

"He doesn't, though," Ryan says. "Right?"

"Not anymore." Z looks at him fondly. "Run along, Your Highness, or I'm going to have to give you the best friend talk or something.

"Oh, no," Ryan says, but Z has a dangerous gleam in her eyes so he gets up and hurries away.

\---

The ship doesn't know how to make hotpot, it tells Ryan regretfully, but it calls up all the ingredients and a recipe for Ryan to follow, and he figures it can't be too hard. About half an hour later, most of the crew have gathered to watch Ryan poke uncertainly at a sticky black mess at the bottom of a saucepan.

"Maybe it's meant to look like this?" Ryan says. "Like. I haven't added the greens yet. Is it meant to look like this?"

"Could be," Sam says, something like wonder in his voice. "Keep going."

"Fifty bucks it'll blow up in five minutes," Darren says in what he probably thinks is an undertone.

"Two hundred that it only takes three," Jeff says.

"It's not going to blow up," Ryan says. "Come on. It's going to be--"

The black mess spits a little, and Ryan leaps backward, but nothing else happens so he figures it's safe and goes back to poking at it with a wooden spoon. The rest of the crew behind him is laughing pretty hard, but Ryan ignores them.

"What's going on in here?" Alex asks from the doorway.

"I'm being dignified," Ryan tells him.

"Ryan's making dinner," Annie says.

"It's your favorite," Tennessee adds. "And doesn't it smell delicious?"

"It smells like the ship is about to explode," Alex says. "Or like - oh, man, Sam, you remember that crazy swamp beast?"

"Oh my god," Sam says, sort of unreasonably delighted. "That's _it_ , I knew it reminded me of something."

"Wait, the one - you told me this," Darren says. "In the trash pit, with the tentacles and spines and things?"

" _Yes_ ," Alex says. "Those were the days."

Ryan says, "It's not that bad, come on."

"I think you should do a taste test," Jeff suggests. "Make sure it's turning out all right."

"Hmm," Ryan says, thoughtfully, peering into the pot and hoping it won't attack again or whatever. He isn't entirely sure he'll be able to pick any of it up with a spoon. It's sort of - clumped together.

"Why are you making dinner?" Alex asks. "The ship can cook."

"It can't cook this," Ryan says.

"I should hope not," Tennessee says, laughing.

Ryan thinks his sulk is perfectly justified, in these circumstances. "I bet it's fine. I should probably just add more water."

Alex doesn't seem especially impressed by Ryan's cooking skills, and while the rest of the crew carries on with the heckling Ryan can pick out the sound of the kitchen computer talking to the captain, and Alex talking back, presumably ordering something.

Ryan's shoulders slump. "I don't know if I can save this."

"Oh, you poor thing," Annie says, laughing. She makes like she's going to pat him on the back, but decides against it at the last minute. "I'm so sorry for you, Your Highness. I know this must be a shocking and tragic defeat."

"It is," Ryan says. "Very much so. I've lost on the culinary battlefield. But this is - the last time, I will reign supreme over this as I soon shall rule over all things." He holds his head up high and tries not to laugh. Ryan entertains himself pretty well, and has had to for years now so it's a practiced art. "Also, you guys are jerks."

"Well, that was exciting," Sam says. "Do you think the ship will even be able to clean up after that?"

"It won't want to," Darren says. "That was the cooking effort of the royal prince. You can't just throw something like that away."

"It's probably a collectible," Ryan says. "Or it will be. Once word spreads of my trials and tribulations at the stovetop."

Alex comes and peers over Ryan's shoulder into the saucepan. "Yeah, throw that out," he says, and Ryan sighs, and then, because Alex is right there and not moving away immediately or anything, slumps back against him for a moment. Alex makes a tiny, surprised noise, and for a moment his hand is on Ryan's hip, supporting him, and then he steps away quickly. Ryan smiles at his hands.

"Red vegetable curry tonight, guys," Alex says, and walks out of the room.

\---

After dinner they all settle down for another movie, and Ryan snags the spot next to Alex pretty easily. The difficulty, he figures, lies within trying to work out how much Alex is just a friendly person and how much he's open to Ryan's clever techniques, but it's nice, too, to just watch a movie leaning against Alex, tilting his head back against Alex's shoulder. At one point Alex complains about his arm going numb and Ryan goes to move away but before he can Alex puts it around Ryan's shoulders, dragging him in closer, and. That works, too.

The others drift away in ones and twos, until it's just Alex and Ryan with Annie and Jeff napping on the other chairs. Ryan's lost track of what this last movie is about, has been dozing in and out of sleep, but he wakes up properly for the end scenes when he realizes that Alex has his cheek pressed against Ryan's hair, is leaning into him as much as Ryan is.

Ryan rests his hand on Alex's leg, just above his knee. The worn denim is warm beneath his palm and he feels Alex breathe in, and smiles against Alex's shoulder. He thinks so far he's doing pretty well.

They sit in silence as the end credits run, and then the ship returns them to a blue screen. Alex is still staring straight ahead of him, like there's something fascinating going on. The corners of his mouth are turning slightly down.

Ryan sighs and nuzzles in a little closer.

"Ryan," Alex says, very low. "What are you doing?"

"I was watching a movie," Ryan says. "Now I'm just sitting."

"Clever," Alex says.

"I try. I really do."

"If you have to try to be clever, you probably aren't," Alex says, cheerfully enough that he's probably joking, but it's a little weird, still.

"I just," Ryan starts, and pauses, scratching his fingers very lightly against Alex's leg, trying to play the movement off as idle and unintentional. "I'm not really doing anything? I don't know. I'm sorry."

"If you're not doing anything, why are you apologizing?"

"Because I don't know," Ryan says. "If I'm doing something that bothers you, I mean. I don't think I'm really doing anything, but."

"I thought you said you were worldly," Alex says.

"Interplanetarily, even." Ryan nods against Alex's shoulder.

"That's not a word," Alex says. "I'm sorry, I know you wish it was, but it's not."

"It is now," Ryan says. "By order of the royal prince of the seven stars and --"

"Yeah, yeah, great, that's good," Alex says. "Good job on the new word, Ryan. Your Highness."

Ryan laughs, and wonders if Alex feels it as warm and pleasant as Ryan does when Alex laughs next to him.

"Really, though," Alex says, a little more seriously.

Ryan sits up a bit so he can look Alex in the eye, though he keeps his hand where it is. "I'm just," Ryan says, softly -- wouldn't want poor Annie and Jeff getting any ideas in their sleep.. "Pretty fond of your crew."

"Right, okay," Alex says. Ryan smiles, and Alex's gaze flicks down to his mouth and then back up again, and Ryan smiles a little wider, feeling sort of smug. Alex breathes in a little raggedly, offers, "I think they like you, too? If it helps."

"Yeah," Ryan says, "you mentioned." He tilts his head to the side. "So I was thinking."

"Were you." Alex's voice is perfectly flat, but Ryan's pretty sure, now, feeling pretty confident, and when he slides his hand just a _little_ bit further up Alex's leg, Alex swallows hard. Ryan's chest feels tight and breathless, but he can deal, he doesn't mind it. It's a giddy sort of feeling.

"I do, on occasion," Ryan says. "Try not to be shocked."

"I'll do my best," Alex says, and then he opens his mouth but Ryan decides not to let Alex come up with another witty remark, not just now. Instead he leans down and brushes his mouth against Alex's, soft as he can manage, and Alex goes completely still underneath him.

"Yeah," Ryan says, not moving back very far at all. "I was just, you know, thinking about the whole situation going onboard here."

"Right," Alex manages, and Ryan kisses him again, properly this time. Alex's hand comes up to pull him in closer, stroking his fingers through Ryan's curls and making him hum, pleased.

"Yup." Alex makes a frustrated little noise when Ryan pulls back again this time, trying to follow after him, and Ryan laughs, presses their foreheads together. "Anyway," he says, "while I'm kidnapped, or in the process of being un-kidnapped, whatever," and this time Alex kisses him, and Ryan clutches at Alex's leg, digging his fingers in a little as he gasps.

"Do go on," Alex says, nipping at Ryan's bottom lip.

"Yeah," Ryan says, "well, I just figured we could, you know. Entertain each other."

Alex blinks at him, looking confused. Ryan leans in and wraps his free arm around Alex's neck, just so Alex doesn't get muddled about what Ryan means.

"You know," Ryan whispers against Alex's mouth, "it's practically obligatory that we mess around. In the name of high adventure and all that. Captain and the Prince, c'mon--"

Alex pulls back. Ryan grins foolishly at him, waggles his eyebrows.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Alex says, and Ryan's grin drops away.

"What do you mean?" Ryan says, feeling a little confused and a little - hurt isn't quite the word for it, but it's as close as he can get that makes sense. That's a line of thinking he'd expect from a nervous politician's son or daughter, not from the dashing -- and kind of ridiculous -- Captain Alexander Greenwald of whatever-the-fuck his ship was called. Is called. Ryan doesn't think this new ship has a name yet, either, just a numerical designation, leaving Alex the captain of a string of letters and numbers.

"I just mean it's a bad idea," Alex says, taking his hand from Ryan's hair and lifting Ryan's arm away from his neck. "And that anyway, it's getting late, and I think I just want to sleep."

Ryan gets a hopeful look, at that, but Alex says, "It'll be nice to, you know. Have the bed to myself and all."

"Right," Ryan says, faintly. Something pulls through his chest, and he feels his stomach tighten, with embarrassment and something else, maybe regret. It's not even just that he's going to miss out on the whole experience, have the eventual movie or textbook or whatever be that much less interesting. He kind of - he's fond of Alex, and he knows they probably won't see each other again, and he thought, maybe, maybe.

Ryan doesn't know just what he thought, exactly. He figures - he might as well try, just once more, so he leans in and kisses Alex again, trying to be very sweet about it. Alex obliges for a moment before pulling away again, getting up to his feet.

"I'm just going to," Alex says, a little vaguely, and he sounds lost and angry at once.

"Right," Ryan says, sinking back onto the sofa and focusing on staying very still and calm. He tries to think of calm and peaceful things, not quite meditation, but close enough.

"Good night," Alex says. "Your Highness."

\---

At night, the ship's navigation system takes over well enough that Z goes to bed and the bridge stays empty. On the old ship, sometimes someone else would stay up, or else the crew would stay up in shifts, to make sure someone kept an eye on things because the steering had a tendency to get a bit out of whack and list to port, leading them millions of miles off track.

This one has no such problems. Ryan settles down into Z's chair, carefully avoiding touching anything that would alter the ship's course. He's pretty sure the ship is keyed in to only allow certain members of the crew to do that, anyway, vaguely remembers hearing Jeff go on excitedly about the process.

Ryan doesn't have access to the steering, but the main screen here on the bridge is huge and wraps around the nose of the ship. Right now it's displaying a calm grey color, close to - but not quite - the color of the ship, but Ryan adjusts the controls for a view of the stars, and sits there watching them through most of the night.

For once, Ryan is feeling homesick for his own bed and for Spencer's advice and his father's vague disapproval, for all his other advisors, for his friends among the aristocracy. He misses his planet's moons and the blazing orange sun, and misses wandering through the royal gardens and visiting the royal menagerie. That last is open to the public, most days of the week, and Ryan was always happy for that - that other people got to see the vast collection of animals from all across the cluster of stars ruled by his family.

There are things he doesn't miss, but right now, he's not thinking about those. Right now he's remembering home and trying not to feel very stupid and small and a little sad.

\---

 **SOMEWHERE, CLOSER THAN ONE WOULD HOPE**

"Hey, Dallon," Brendon says, cheerfully, leaning in with his cheek smushed against Shane's, trying to get more real estate on the screen by taking up more of the camera's field of view.

"Urie, Valdes," Dallon says, respectfully enough. "I got the number of the ship they took."

"See, we told you," Shane says.

"We told you being a janitor would pay off," Brendon says. "Everything has its purpose."

Shane nods, offering the camera - and Dallon - a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you'll be duly rewarded."

"Of course," Dallon says. His smile is a little tense.

Brendon doesn't like that much, not at all, and Shane can feel the slightest shift of Brendon's face next to his, the added tension in his shoulder and that slightest of edges to his voice. It's all very subtle, and it doesn't look as if Dallon notices, but Shane knows. Shane laughs, even, and Dallon just stares at the both of them in confusion.

"Shane's very perceptive," Brendon says, smiling wide. "He picks up on things. Don't worry."

"I won't," Dallon says. "I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain."

"Oh, man," Brendon says, practically giggling. "That's - of course we will, are you trying to say we wouldn't?"

"No, no," Dallon says. "I was just. Expressing my faith."

"Oh, but that's not your faith at all," Brendon says, shaking his head sadly. "You have faith in—"

"—other powers, ones far less relevant to your situation," Shane says. "And that's all right, but don't tell lies."

"Anyway, your wife's probably going to call you soon," Brendon says, cheerily. "And, you know."

"You should probably answer," Shane says. "It might be important."

\---

Z seems kind of surprised the next morning when she comes into find Ryan there. "Hey," she says, screwing her forehead up in a bewildered sort of way, and Ryan looks up.

"Oh, sorry." He stands up. "You can have your chair back, I promise I wasn't stealing it."

"It's cool," Z says. Ryan watches her gaze dart to the controls for a moment, and wonders if she thinks that he meddled with the coordinates or whatever, tried to set them to take them back home. He'd have to be pretty stupid, but he doesn't feel particularly angry at the implication, or at least not angry at her. "Everyone's having breakfast, if you're hungry."

"Oh, yeah, I guess." Ryan waves at her and heads down towards the kitchen, where everyone is indeed sitting around the table talking over the top of each other. Alex is standing in front of the machine, ensuring that his toast comes out charred to a crisp, because he's kind of odd like that.

Ryan stands a little way back, waiting until Alex gets his plate and steps aside, and then goes up to tell the machine what he wants. Alex looks startled when Ryan steps up. "Hey," he says. "I didn't see you there."

"Yup," Ryan says. He's come to the conclusion, over the course of the night, that Alex is a bit of a douche, and should be treated as such.

"How are you?" Alex looks a little nervous. Ryan's pleased.

"Fine," Ryan says, and takes the bowl of oatmeal the machine provides him. He sits down in a corner of the table and eats it as quickly as he can, before he says, "I'm going to bed."

"What, really?" Darren says.

"I haven't been to sleep yet," Ryan says. "I was reading a good book."

He's very conscious of Alex watching him, but he manages not to turn around and look back when he walks out and up to his room.

\---

He sleeps for the whole day, and most of the night that follows. He only comes out of his room, in the end, because the engine is making a slightly different noise, louder than usual, and he's curious.

"There you are," Alex says, when Ryan comes in to where most of the crew are grouped around the bridge. Darren's missing, and Z's ignoring the rest of them, bent over the controls.

"What's going on?" Ryan asks.

"We're landing," Alex says. "Shore leave. Want to stretch your legs for a while?"

"Yeah," Ryan says, vaguely pleased by the idea. He likes the thought of getting off the ship for a while, and steering clear of Alex, but that hope is ruined when Alex sticks close by his side as they disembark and head towards the town. Ryan tries ignoring him for a while, but when that doesn't work, he says, "What are you doing?"

"Following you," Alex says, sounding a little confused. "You know the way into town, right?"

"It's a _straight road_ ," Ryan says. "Why are you following me? Can't you go do something else? On your own?"

Alex shoves his hands in his pockets, looking sort of tense. "We're sticking in pairs."

"Really? Everyone?" Ryan raises his eyebrows.

Alex lets out an angry breath. "No," he says, "not everyone, just you, because you're not as good at this as we are, and you're the one who's most likely to get yourself killed. I've been elected babysitter."

"Fuck off," Ryan says.

"I can't believe you're even mad," Alex says. "I'm the one who should be mad. You've got some fucking nerve."

"Whatever," Ryan says. "Just don't talk to me, okay?"

"Great," Alex says. "Sounds perfect."

Ryan leads the way into town. It's another small one; a farming community, Ryan thinks, with green fields stretching out on either side of them, and cliffs a little way off. Ryan can just see the gulls wheeling in the distance, but there's no beach you can walk along, here. Just cliffs and a steep fall.

Alex sticks close to his elbow, and it starts to piss Ryan off even more now that they're ignoring each other. He's never even liked the security detail he gets, let alone _Alex_ acting like some sort of sullen bodyguard. They get to a crowded marketplace, and Alex stops to look at some instruments that Ryan doesn't recognise. He stands by huffily, feeling annoyed at having to wait, and then a crowd of people pass, laughing and talking, and Ryan thinks, _huh_. He slips into the middle of them, and lets them carry him along with them, out of Alex's sight.

The crowd starts to disperse a little way down the street, and Ryan follows a couple of them into a nearby cafe. He doesn't have any money on him, he realizes regretfully, but he sits on a wooden stool in the corner and stares out the window, resting his elbows on the counter in front of him. It's sunny and nice, and the town is pretty, picturesque, even, but Ryan is still in a bad mood. It's just another reason to be annoyed at Alex.

"Hey," a guy says. "Excuse me, sorry, is this seat taken?"

Ryan turns around. The guy is wearing a really awesome plaid shirt that looks sort of like something from the old westerns Spencer and Ryan used to watch together. He has bright red square glasses and a ready grin, and Ryan shrugs.

"Nope," he says. "All yours."

"Awesome." The guy sits on it, putting down a very bright smoothie in front of him. Ryan nods and goes back to looking out the window, but after a moment the guy says, nodding to the empty space in front of Ryan, "Is the service here that slow?"

"What?" Ryan shakes his head and laughs. "Oh, no, I just haven't. Ordered. I suppose I should leave."

"Eh, they won't notice." The guy tilts his head to the side, smiles at Ryan. "I'm Brendon, by the way."

"Hi," Ryan says, and they shake hands. Brendon's grip is warm and dry, and he squeezes Ryan's hand just once. Ryan doesn't want to say his name just now, just in case it makes Brendon recognize him, and Brendon doesn't seem to mind. His eyes are bright and cheerful, and Ryan pauses for a moment, considering. He's pretty hot. Ryan thinks it would show Alex right. Not that Ryan wanting to get laid is about Alex at all, obviously.

"So what are you doing on this fine day?" Brendon asks, and Ryan releases Brendon's hand belatedly. The corner of Brendon's mouth twitches, like he's pleased.

"Not much," Ryan says. "I don't actually live here, like. My ship just stopped off for supplies or whatever. I don't know anything about this place."

"Really?" Brendon blinks. "I thought it was pretty famous. For the cliffs, you know."

"What about them?"

"They're meant to be one of the Great Sights To See," Brendon says. "There's whole guidebooks written just about them." He shrugs. "I mean, they're really pretty, so I guess they deserve it."

"Right," Ryan says. "Huh, well. Maybe I'll go see."

"You want company?" Brendon gives him a winning smile, slurps up the last of his smoothie. "It's not that far a walk from here, if you're curious."

Ryan grins. _Fuck you, Alex,_ he thinks cheerfully, and says, "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"That's the spirit of adventure," Brendon says solemnly, and jumps to his feet. "C'mon, then. Shall we?"

Ryan kind of can't believe his luck. "Yeah," he says. "Let's go."

Brendon's good company. He keeps up a constant chatter about the town and the people here, and some of the planets around it -- apparently he travels around a lot, too, with his friend, doing "importing and exporting, mostly, it's pretty boring. We do some activist stuff too, though, you know, try to stay engaged politically," and Ryan grins, feeling rather smug about being an in disguise prince just now.

The cliffs are sort of pretty, Ryan supposes, but not _that_ special. They're green and the sun is bright and there's little white flowers dotting the hillside, but Ryan's seen things a lot more impressive. He thinks that probably Brendon's a little small time, and Ryan doesn't want to be a douche about it, so he marvels appropriately. Brendon seems pleased at that, slings an arm around Ryan's shoulders and points things out, pressed up warm against Ryan's side. He's shorter than Ryan, which Ryan is also pleased about. Tall people think they can push you off and stuff so easily, it's so boring.

"Huh," Brendon says, sounding distracted, and Ryan looks to see what Brendon's staring at. There's a little figure running towards them, getting closer and closer, and Ryan squints and then scowls.

"Oh, it's just Alex," he says.

"Alex?"

"Yeah, he's the captain of my ship." Ryan sighs. "He's a bit of a jerk."

"Shouldn't you respond, if he's your captain?"

"I guess." Ryan waves at Alex lazily, then shields his eyes with his hand. There's someone a little way behind Alex. "Oh, fuck, I bet he's gone and told Z on me."

"No," Brendon says, sounding happier than ever, "that's my friend."

"What's your friend in such a hurry for, you think?" Ryan wonders. "Alex is probably just pissed off."

Brendon turns back to Ryan. "Wait, no, he's pissed that you went somewhere alone? You're an adult, aren't you?"

"Yeah, it's - it's stupid," Ryan says, a little vague. The sound of the waves is loud enough up here that he has to raise his voice, and he's surprised Brendon even hears him. "I'll probably have to leave in a minute, then."

"Man." Brendon shakes his head a little. "That sucks. I was going to be leaving pretty soon, too, though, so I guess it works out."

"I guess," Ryan says, turning his attention back to Brendon. He reaches out to touch Brendon's elbow and offers him a crooked grin. "Would've been nice to have a little bit longer, though, you know?"

"Oh, we've still got a little," Brendon says, smiling back. He checks his watch and grins wider.

Ryan figures, if Alex is already pissed off at him, he might as well just be a bit immature and kind of a brat about things. Brendon seems open enough, pleased at that little point of contact, so Ryan steps closer, says, "Hey. It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah," Brendon agrees, eyes bright. His eyes dart to the side - toward the cliffs, toward the path up to them - and it seems like he's pondering some decision of grave importance before leaning up to kiss Ryan. Ryan curls his fingers around Brendon's elbow, sliding his hand up a bit.

A few things happen, then, some of them more notable than others:

A gull is thrown off by a shift in the currents and ends up smacking against the cliff, and takes a moment to recover, falling several feet before getting air under its wings again and taking off again. Alex shouts Ryan's name. Ryan ignores him, and opens his mouth for Brendon. Brendon's been smiling into the kiss all along but he pulls back a second just to smile even wider, in a way that seems just a bit ominous.

Then Alex has grabbed Ryan by the elbow and is trying to yank him away. Alex has one of his guns pulled, pointed at Brendon's head. He says, "Don't you fucking dare."

"Oh, man," Brendon laughs. "Ryan, you were right, he _is_ pissed."

"Alex, come on," Ryan says, though - he's pretty sure he never gave Brendon his name. "Are you crazy now, too?"

Brendon's friend has stopped, too, and has a gun of his own pulled on Alex. "I assure you that he is."

"Hey," Ryan says. "I have an idea that involves everyone putting down their guns."

"Eh," Brendon says. "Doesn't seem like a safe one, now, does it? Though your captain there might want to reconsider." He checks the time again, then says, "Hey, Shane? We don't actually have time to deal with this."

"Figures," Shane says, shaking his head regretfully.

That's when Ryan realizes there's been another sound, behind the waves, this whole time, and that it's gotten a good deal louder, because a ship has just crested the cliffs and has the airlock open and a ladder down.

"What," Ryan says.

"Help," Brendon says, with a flourish and a bow, "has arrived, Your Highness."

Ryan stares at Brendon. Brendon has his thumbs hooked through his belt loops, is rocking back and forth on his heels and looking extremely pleased with himself.

"You know who I am," Ryan says.

"You're prettier in real life," Brendon says earnestly.

"I don't -- what do you want?"

"We're here to rescue you," Brendon tells him. "Really, Captain Greenwald, put the gun _away_. You're only going to make a fool of yourself."

"Let him go," Alex says.

There's a click, and Shane has his gun pressing against the back of Alex's head. Alex doesn't move, his own gun still trained at Brendon's chest.

Brendon looks impatient, glancing behind him. "We really have to go," he says. "C'mon, you first, Highness."

"I don't need rescuing," Ryan says quickly. "You're very sweet, but seriously, Alex is just a douche, it's not like he's--"

" _Sweet_?" Alex repeats, incredulous. "Ryan, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Fuck you," Ryan says frostily, "just because I'm making friends with someone not on your precious fucking crew—"

"Ryan." Alex sounds a little bit choked. "Do you know his name?"

Ryan rolls his eyes at Brendon. "Sorry," he says. "He's not usually this dumb. Anyway, you really don't need to shoot him, I don't hate him that much—"

"Wow, this is boring," Shane says, and hits Alex hard across the back of the head with the butt of his gun. Alex crumples, and Ryan turns around, open-mouthed. He drops to his knees besides Alex, touches his face and his hair and tries to pull him up into Ryan's lap.

"Alex," he says, a little frantic. "Alex, c'mon, c'mon, wake up, don't--" He looks up, gaping at Shane. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with -- Alex, please wake up, hey, I'm, I'm issuing a royal decree—"

"Oh, it's like that," Shane says.

Brendon is glaring. "I feel used."

"Sorry," Shane says. "Look, let's just get them both up for now, okay?"

"Him, too?" Brendon nudges at Alex with his sneaker. Ryan glares at him, tugging Alex in protectively.

"Might as well," Shane says. "If His Royal Highness is all Stockholmed or whatever. Besides, he might wake up if we leave him here."

"We could always shoot him," Brendon suggests.

"Fuck off," Ryan says, hunching over Alex.

"Fine, whatever." Brendon sighs, tossing his head a little. "This is _not_ going as planned, Shane."

"I know." Shane rubs Brendon's neck for a moment soothingly. "Okay, call up for a rope."

Ryan tries, half-heartedly, to fight them off, but Shane just gets his gun out again and points it at Ryan until Ryan subsides, lets them tie a rope around Alex's waist. Then Shane goes up the ladder with Alex half draped over his shoulder, and Brendon waggles his own gun cheerily at Ryan. "You next," he says.

Ryan swallows, and does as he's told.

\---

"Your highness," Brendon says, earnestly, once everyone is aboard. Some crew member dragged Alex off somewhere, and Ryan is in a well-appointed lounge area with Brendon and Shane. "I'd like to apologize for how sudden that was, and how harsh our methods."

"Greenwald is a dangerous man," Shane says, and Brendon nods in agreement. "And a master of subterfuge."

"And kind of a douche," Brendon adds, laughing.

"That may be," Ryan says. "But I didn't need -- rescuing or whatever. I'm fine, as you can see."

"Oh, but your highness," Brendon says, with a bit of a sigh. "It looks as if they haven't let you wash in days."

"I forgot."

"Forgot," Shane repeats, dubiously, then starts laughing. "Oh, you just forgot basic hygiene, we should have realized."

"We're so sorry," Brendon says, sort of giggling.

"It must have been Greenwald's influence," Shane says, cheerfully. "He's famous for that sort of thing."

"For not showering?" Ryan asks, bewildered, and kind of laughing along awkwardly because Alex is a bit questionable in his personal hygiene sometimes.

"Anyway, you must be tired, Prince Ross. If you'd like, we can show you to your quarters."

"I want to see Alex," Ryan says quickly, lifting his chin. "I demand you take me to him at once."

"Oh, all right," Shane says with a sigh. "We can do that."

"I guess," Brendon says, shaking his head sadly. "If you insist. He's a criminal."

Ryan says, "And still deserves - basic human rights, as a citizen of the Ross kingdom, as defined under sections one through twelve of statute 3A."

"Right," Brendon nods.

"Of course," Shane says. "Oh, forgive us, your highness."

"Oh! We never properly introduced ourselves, not in full." Brendon laughs. "May I present to you, your highness, my dear friend Shane Valdes."

Shane bows. "An honor, sir."

Ryan's eyes go wide.

"And if I may have the pleasure of introducing you to my business partner, one Brendon Boyd Urie?"

Brendon waves, cheerfully.

"You're." Ryan breathes in shallowly, something tightening in his chest. "Fuck."

"Oh my God, Shane," Brendon says in a stage whisper, hanging off Shane's arm. "He's heard of us."

"I'm so honored," Shane says. "Do you feel honored?"

" _So_ honored," Brendon says.

Ryan says, a little shakily, "I want to see Alex."

"Fine, fine," Brendon says. "But then we should exchange stories about each other, okay? We keep all your clippings." He winks at Ryan.

"Also," Shane says casually, "you should sign some forms for us. Nothing big, you know, just legalities."

Brendon makes a gesture, and a curly-haired guy lounging in the doorway comes to lead Ryan through a series of corridors. They go further and further down into the ship, and it gets darker and darker until Ryan's feeling twitchy and distinctly frightened, and then the guy is tapping in a code and a set of bars is sliding open. Alex has his hands chained behind him, and he's tied to some kind of post stuck in the middle of the floor. He's still slumped forward, his hair obscuring his face.

"Alex," Ryan says, kneeling in front of him. He pushes Alex's hair out of his face and leaves his hand there, lingering on Alex's cheek. Alex groans, and Ryan laughs small and choked. "Hey, Alex. Wake up. We've been kidnapped."

"Ryan?" Alex says, a little groggily, and Ryan knows Alex doesn't -- want him like that, or whatever, but he can't help darting forward to press a kiss at the very corner of Alex's mouth at that. He's just really relieved that Alex isn't dead, no matter what a jerk he is.

"Hey," he says. "Hey, yeah."

Alex opens his eyes with what looks like an unreasonable amount of effort. He licks his lips, and says, "Hi."

"How's your head?"

"Pretty fucking sore," Alex says. He's speaking slower than usual, a little slurred. Ryan wonders if that's a sign of concussion. He can't remember what to do when someone has concussion. "Is -- where am I?"

"I think we're on Urie and Valdes's ship," Ryan says. "I mean, I'm pretty sure."

"Oh," Alex says. "Yeah, I remember." He stares at Ryan. "You fucking moron."

"I know," Ryan says, miserably. "Sorry."

"Hey, so," the curly-haired guy says. "Brendon says you've got ten minutes."

Then the bars come down again, locking them in.

Ryan frowns, heart thudding against his ribs. "Wait, hey!"

But the crew member, whoever he is, is already gone. "Fuck," Ryan says.

"You're," Alex says. "You're the fucking prince, you should know better than to run off with strangers."

"Yeah." Ryan laughs a little. "You'd think I'd have learned by now."

"Falling for the same trick twice." Alex starts to shake his head but winces as soon as he tries, stiffening up.

"Pretty embarrassing," Ryan allows. "It's - yeah."

"Probably they'll - they have their own mobile base, even. So probably."

"It's supposed to be impenetrable, right," Ryan says. "But we'll, come on, you'll get us out of   
this. Somehow. You're crafty, right?"

Alex makes a vague noise. It doesn't sound much like he's agreeing.

"I'm so sorry," Ryan says. He drops his head. He wants to hold onto Alex, just glad he's alive, but that's probably ill-advised. He just stays still and quiet instead.

The ship is eerily silent around them except the occasional light jingle when Alex shifts his arms a little in their chains, trying to get comfortable.

Ryan decides to investigate his chains, see if there's anything he can do to help, but realizes soon enough they wouldn't have left him in here if there were.

Alex is quiet, too.

"Hey," Ryan says. "Hey, stay awake."

"'M up," Alex grumbles. "I don't want to go to school today."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan says, rolling his eyes a little. He's torn between being charmed and concerned. More concerned. Whatever.

Alex's guns are long gone. Ryan doesn't actually remember if he had his sword with him earlier or not, but he doesn't now, not that it would have done much against the heavy metal links.

He does think of one thing he can do, though, so he takes off his jacket and rips off a sleeve, managing to get the fabric between Alex's wrists and the metal. It won't get him free, but at least it'll stop his skin from being rubbed raw. His wrists are already looking a bit red, and it hasn't been very long at all.

Ryan realizes, after a while, that it's been a fair deal longer than ten minutes. "Alex," he says.

"Hmm."

"I don't - what do they even want?"

"I told you," Alex says belligerently. "I dunno."

"I just - sorry," Ryan says. "Alex. Captain Greenwald. I'm sorry."

"All right, all right," a cheery voice says. Ryan looks up. Brendon beams at him from the other side of the bars. "That's all very touching, but how about you come with me, your highness, and we can discuss what plans Mister Valdes and I have for you. That'll be way easier than asking some pirate, man, you know?"

"No," Ryan says.

"No?"

"Fuck off," Ryan says.

"Man." Brendon laughs. "You're awfully rude. I hope we haven't done anything to piss you off. I hear you used to be pretty ornery, anyway."

Ryan just stares at Brendon, feeling stubborn and stupid, and he keeps his hand resting on Alex's knee. There's an odd whine in Alex's breathing that Ryan didn't notice at first, and it's kind of scary to listen to.

"What's going on here?" Shane hooks his chin over Brendon's shoulder, waggling his fingers in a wave. "Are you still down here, Highness? It's pretty gross."

"Grimy," Brendon agrees, making a face. "Aren't you used to a better class of surroundings, Ryan? Can I call you Ryan? We're all friends here, right?"

"No," Ryan says. "You can't."

"The _pirate_ calls you Ryan," Brendon says in a very reasonable tone. " I don't see what the problem is." He lowers his voice, looking apologetic. "Is it because I didn't tell you about Shane before we made out? Shane doesn't mind."

"I have a very open mind," Shane says. He grins at Ryan.

"We didn't make out," Ryan snaps. Alex makes a huffy little noise, which is, well. Clearly he's not concussed enough to keep him from being a jerk, so Ryan supposes there's that in his favour.

"It's so dark down here," Shane says. "Come on. I want to take photos of you with the prince, Brendon."

"Yes!" Brendon says. "Come on, Ryan. Highness. Your Royal Awesomeness. It'll be great."

"I want to stay here," Ryan says.

Brendon sighs. "But that's no fun for us, is it? I know you're a Prince and all, but that's no call to be selfish."

"You should put that on our list of demands," Shane says. "Less selfishness."

"Good idea," Brendon says.

"You can knock me out, if you like," Ryan says, a little more bravely than he feels. "But I'm not going with you."

The iron bars slide open again, and Brendon walks in. Ryan flinches despite himself, and Brendon laughs, but he just leans on the post, looking down at Ryan and Alex in a confused sort of way.

"At least he's loyal?" Shane offers, like Brendon's said something. "I mean. Loyalty is a good trait, right?"

"I think so," Brendon says. "Usually just to us, though."

"Point," Shane says. "You know what, we could compromise. I mean. It's not like we have a bed for him anyway."

"True," Brendon says. He winks at Ryan. "We were going to let you share ours, but, you know. What's say, if you're _really_ good, and come up and talk to us now, we'll let you come back down here for the night afterwards?"

"What if I just don't go now?" Ryan says. "I'm not really in the mood for talk."

"Maybe you could get in the mood," Brendon says. He looks at Shane. Shane shrugs, and then, before Ryan even processes him moving forward, kicks Alex in the ribs, hard. Alex jerks and makes half a noise before he bites his lip, falling back against the post with his eyes squeezed tightly closed.

"Alex!" Ryan just stares, because there isn't much else he can do, then looks up at Brendon again feeling even more defiant. Ryan really can't believe that, as Alex pointed out, he fell for essentially the same trick twice. Then again, this time he just went up to some cliffs, didn't get on a ship.

"I -" Ryan starts, finally, not once dropping his head or his eyes. He's proud, if nothing else, and won't let this temporary setback discourage him. He is the prince, heir to a vast swath of space, and he'll be all right. Everything always turns out all right, eventually, though that's usually on-world with security ready to aid him at any second.

He isn't entirely sure where they are right now, not what planet they were just on or which direction the ship is headed. There are an infinite number of possibilities, especially when factoring in that Brendon and Shane's ship is mobile.

"All right," Ryan says, finally. "I will at least grant you audience and allow you to present me your petition, but do not - do not promise that I'll, that I will acquiesce to any I deem reasonable. And I ask. Uh. Ask that you do no further harm to Captain Greenwald."

"Fair enough," Brendon says.

"For now," Shane says. "He's guilty, though."

"The guilty must be punished eventually," Brendon says, patting Alex on the head. He ruffles Alex's hair, then steps forward to take Ryan's arm. "C'mon, man, hey. Let's go. We can talk over dinner, too, it's going to be so great. Our cook is fucking awesome."

"Like you wouldn't believe," Shane says, delighted. "Tonight should be pretty good. We told her you were going to be onboard. She's a real big fan of yours. Very loyal, too."

"The loyalist," Brendon agrees, pushing his glasses up. "Did you - dude, did she tell you what she was making?"

"No," Shane says. "What?"

"I have no idea." Brendon laughs again. Shane jokingly cuffs him on the shoulder, and Brendon grins at him, corner of his eyes crinkling a little. "Man, I'm so excited. Seriously, Ryan, the _best_. God. Like, I seriously look forward to dinner so much, it's ridiculous."

"I'm pretty hungry, too," Shane says. "So it's good timing, you know?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Brendon says. "Worked out perfectly. I was kind of worried for a bit there."

Shane nods. "But we triumphed over adversity."

"Once again."

"Do you guys ever stop talking?" Ryan asks, a little bewildered by the flow of conversation around him.

"Oh, sometimes," Brendon says, leering at him. "Shane knows how to shut me up. Pretty easy, once you work out the trick to it."

Shane, with his hands in his pockets, has the good graces not to say anything, though he does look quite smug.

\---

They get to the dining room right after that, and a girl brings out some food - "Most of it's grown right onboard," Brendon says. "Except things like salt, and a few of the more fussy spices. So it's all pretty fresh, for the most part."

Ryan breathes in deep, and has to admit to himself that it does smell good. He doesn't mention it to them, though.

"Dig in," Shane says, then when Ryan doesn't immediately move, says, "Ah, do you want - here." He reaches over, spearing a random vegetable off Ryan's plate with his fork, and pops it in his mouth, making a bit of a show of it. "Nothing to worry about."

Ryan frowns, watching Shane for a moment before deciding that it must be safe enough. Possibly they could have planted that one piece, but everything's in the same sauce, so. Probably they're not interested in assassinating him, at this point, when they've had so many other chances.

Ryan tucks in, hungrily. It's been a while since he last ate, and the food provided is delicious. Brendon watches him fondly, eating his own dinner a little more slowly.

"So, Your Highness. I apologize for interrupting your meal, but I figure we should get some things out of the way now rather than later," Shane says, and Ryan's grateful at least _one_ of them is treating him with the proper dignity and respect accorded to his station.

"Yes," Ryan says, swallowing, and setting his fork down neatly on the edge of the plate. "Go ahead."

"You've heard of us, of course," Shane says graciously. "And that's very flattering, but it seems what you have heard hasn't left the best impression."

" _Meeting you_ hasn't left the best impression, either," Ryan says, scowling.

"Right," Brendon laughs. "And really, we're sorry about that, again. We don't take kindly to pirates."

"We don't like that sort at all," Shane agrees. "It's far better if one can at least attempt to attain some degree of legitimacy."

"Which we've been doing, lately." Brendon has his hands folded in his lap, and smiles sweetly at Ryan. "We've made some inroads with a few leaders in smaller systems, you know."

"I know your family is well-acquainted with Prime Minister Wentz, for example, who we've recently reached an understanding with," Shane says, ticking off names on his fingers. "President Flowers. Used to be from one of your worlds before moving, got elected two years back. Chancellor Morrissey, you've heard of him, I imagine. We're in talks with some others."

"You didn't _kidnap_ any of them, though," Ryan snaps.

"What?" Brendon laughs. "Of course not. Why would we bother doing that?"

"It's tacky," Shane says, making a face.

"Tasteless," Brendon agrees. "It was a very unfortunate coincidence that you happened to be taken at the same time we meant to approach you, though."

Shane sighs, shaking his head, but doesn't say anything.

"That's not - you were going to pay them," Ryan says. "Ale -- Captain Greenwald's crew, you hired them to kidnap and deliver me to you."

"Oh, ew," Brendon says. "You think that?"

Ryan glares at them both.

"Seriously," Shane says. "Greenwald is a pirate, barely even deserving the title of captain."

"I think we mentioned the subterfuge," Brendon says. "Also the trickery and lies."

Ryan says, "He wouldn't - he was going to let me go."

"After, what, seducing you? Is that why you're so fond?" Brendon says, leaning forward. "That's kind of creepy."

"Kind of a lot creepy," Shane says.

"What the fuck." Ryan laughs. "No, unlike you."

"Hey, now." Brendon puts his hands up, tries to look innocent. The expression would be funnier if Ryan weren't sort of terrified right now. "We've been pretty straightforward, I like to think."

"Alex probably would have blackmailed you," Shane says. "The prince having an illicit affair with a pirate."

"As opposed to the prince having a threesome with a couple of creepy crime lords who never shut up."

"That would be bad, too." Brendon nods. "But I told you. We're trying to go legit. And we're not creepy, anyway, so. I'm sure if you _found_ some creepy crime lords to have a dalliance with, they'd be happy to blackmail you as well."

Ryan snorts.

"See? See. Brendon. He's smart. He knows how ridiculous that would be."

"I don't know, he was the one who suggested it in the first place," Brendon says, dubiously. He's got a very expressive face, and Ryan remembers why he was so taken with him at first, only it turns out Brendon's also good at being obnoxious.

Ryan wonders, vaguely, if they're trying to do some sort of good cop/bad cop thing, with Brendon being obnoxious and Shane as the voice of reason, only it doesn't work too well now that Shane's both knocked Alex out and kicked him in the ribs. It undermines the _good_ image pretty hardcore.

"We should, like," Shane says. "If you don't mind, your highness, I'd like to take a few pictures, just to show the state we found you in."

"Prove you're safe and sound, too," Brendon says.

"No," Ryan says.

"Mm, see, now," Shane says. "That's not being very cooperative. We're willing to cooperate with you, your highness. We'll even let Greenwald eat dinner, too, if you'll just let me take a couple shots. Nothing major. It's not like I'm asking you to do any creepy poses, just a portrait or two, yeah?"

"What - are you not feeding him?"

Brendon shrugs, loosely. "You know how it is. We've only got so much, anyway."

"Fuck you," Ryan says.

"Jeez," Brendon says, holding his hands up defensively this time. "So harsh. Seriously, dude, chill."

"Stop - stop calling me _dude_ , I am deserving of at least some modicum of respect and dignity, I think, thanks to my station."

"Hmm," Shane hums.

Brendon just grins at him, tilting his head to the side and batting his eyelashes at Ryan. Ryan exhales. "A few pictures."

"Great!" Shane gives him an approving smile. "We knew you'd see reason."

"It's okay," Brendon says. He leans over so he can hook an arm around Ryan's neck, ruffle Ryan's hair fondly. "Shane's a great photographer. And you shouldn't be ashamed of the way you look just now."

"What?" Ryan glares at him. "I look fine."

"Pretty," Brendon agrees. "Under all the dirt." He makes a face. "You can have a shower in a little while, if you want."

Ryan eyes them narrowly. A shower does sound like a good idea, if only because he thinks that he'll be able to feel a little more in control of the situation once he can get dressed back up again like usual, but he's not sure he trusts Brendon or Shane while he's in there. They could -- decide to poison the water, or steal his clothes and his towel, or something.

"Well, pictures first," Shane says. "Have you had enough to eat? There's dessert later."

"Let's just get it over with," Ryan says, standing up.

They lead him into the plush living room next door, with its opulent furniture and white walls. Shane directs him to stand up against one of the walls, and Ryan clasps his hands behind his back and stands up straight without quite meaning to. He is, he supposes, pretty used to having his picture taken.

"You can slump a bit, if you want," Brendon says, peering over Ryan's shoulder. "You know, you don't have to pretend you're fine or whatever."

"I was fine," Ryan says, "until you guys came along."

"It's not recording sound, is it?" Brendon hisses to Shane. Shane gives him an exasperated look.

Shane is quiet and focused with the camera in his hands, but Brendon drops into an armchair and keeps up a steady burst of chatter, about how glad he is that they found Ryan before Greenwald could do anything worse, and how much he's hoping they can work together in the future, and how that shirt looks great, under the dirt, Brendon can totally have it cleaned, if Ryan wants.

After a while Brendon gets bored, and bounds into the picture frame, looping his arms around Ryan's neck and beaming at him. Ryan tries in vain to push him off, but Brendon is surprisingly strong, and he pulls Ryan close to him, leering at the camera while Shane laughs and keeps snapping away steadily. Eventually Ryan gives up and just stands there scowling while Brendon drapes himself over Ryan's shoulder and makes kissy faces at Shane.

"C'mon, man," Brendon says, rubbing his nose against Ryan's ear. "Smile a little! I will show these photos to my grandchildren. If I have grandchildren."

"Down, boy," Shane says calmly. Then he looks at Ryan. "Smiling's a good idea, though."

"Fuck you," Ryan says. He's beginning to feel a little repetitive, but he thinks his point stands.

"Hey, Your Highness," Brendon says, "if you smile, we'll let Greenwald use his hands to eat."

Ryan stops, turns to stare at him. "You said you'd give him food."

"We did," Brendon agrees, nodding. "But now we'll unchain his hands for it, too. If you're _really_ nice, we might even give him a knife and fork."

"You're so fucked up," Ryan says, and grimaces for the camera.

"Perfect!" Brendon says, and kisses Ryan's cheek in time for the flash to go off.

\---

He does end up showering, in the end, with the added promise of cutlery for Alex. When he gets out, there's fresh clothes set out for him, comfortable and richer than anything he's worn in a long while, and he's a little ashamed but it feels good, buttoning up the expensive shirt. He rubs his hair dry with a towel, and when he looks in the mirror he looks more like himself than he's felt in a long while.

It feels really wrong.

When he comes out, Brendon says, "Oh hey, you clean up _good_ ," and leers at Ryan some more.

Ryan folds his arms. "I'd like to go back to Alex, now."

"There's dessert," Shane says. "You said you'd eat with us." He and Brendon train twin mournful looks on Ryan.

Ryan doesn't actually remember promising any such thing, but he snaps, "Fine," and sits down to eat the chocolate mousse as quickly as he can.

Brendon makes tutting noises. "Such a waste," he says.

"Our cook will be so disappointed," Shane says.

"Did you want to convey your compliments to her?" Brendon asks, wide-eyed. "I'm sure she'd be delighted."

"No," Ryan says.

"No dessert for Greenwald, I guess," Shane says. "Pity."

"He doesn't eat eggs," Ryan says, and resists the urge to stick his tongue out at them.

When they lead him back down to Alex's cell, Alex is already unlocked, staring uneasily and hungrily at the plate of food in front of him. Ryan says, "Taste it for him," and Alex's head jerks up.

"So suspicious," Brendon says. "You're lucky we like you, Prince." He bends over Alex, wrinkling his nose distastefully, and scoops up a vegetable with his thumb and forefinger, biting into it and making exaggerated happy noises. Then he licks his fingers clean, smirking at Ryan the whole time.

"You know," Shane says. "We were kidding about sleeping with us, if you don't want to. There's a bed made up, and everything. You don't have to stay here."

"Can Alex come with me?"

Shane rolls his eyes. "Don't be silly."

"Alright, then," Ryan says. "Goodnight."

"You know, no offense," Brendon says, leaning into Shane's side, "but you're a bit of a disappointment."

"We heard you'd mellowed out," Shane explains patiently. "Stopped being so rebellious, gained a deeper understanding of your responsibilities to your kingdom and your place in the universe."

"Maybe you should stop reading tabloids."

"But they're so fun," Brendon says, eyes wide, unchaining Alex's hands without comment. "How else would we learn about the sun-eating monsters from the fifth dimension? C'mon, Shane. Let's go."

"Not much else to do here." Shane nods, and the two of them step out of the cell. "Your Highness, all you have to do is shout and we can have you in a real bed in no time flat."

"Doesn't matter if it's ours, remember." Brendon grins, waving as the bars shut once again. "I promise it'll be so much better than the floor, either way."

"There are orders of magnitude involved, possibly," Shane says.

"And -- okay, okay, come on. Shane. You need to tell me when I'm talking too much, come on. You know I forget myself."

"Probably that's too much. Anyway, a guard'll e back tough in a bit to chain up his hands again. Enjoy." Shane laughs, and the two of them wander off half-bickering and far too cheerful about it.

Ryan waits a moment before sitting down cross-legged next to Alex, who's watching him suspiciously. A while goes by in silence, and then Alex starts eating, holding the plate with one hand and picking things up with the other.

Ryan grimaces. "I couldn't get them to give you utensils. Sorry."

" _Get_ them to - Ry. Your Highness."

"I did not do or agree to perform any actions that will prove a permanent political setback," Ryan says, calmly. It's easier to stay calm when he's also focused on staying formal. He's making a little less sense than he might, but - he's fed and clean, and Alex is all right. Ryan tries to remain confident.

"What did you do?" Alex says.

"They wanted to take pictures," Ryan says, drawing patterns on the floor with one finger. This part of the ship hasn't been cleaned in a while. "Nothing - nothing untoward. I believe it was. Just to prove to my father that they have me and I yet survive."

"You yet survive," Alex laughs. "Really?"

"Shut up," Ryan snaps, then ducks his head. "Sorry."

Alex breathes out, then continues eating, unruffled.

"Nonetheless," Ryan says, softly. "You're, you know. You are a citizen of my kingdom, and, as such, are accorded certain rights. And I - will not allow undue hardship to fall upon any of my subjects or whatever."

Alex huffs out another laugh. He's near done eating. "Well, isn't it nice of you to come visit. Is this another part of your high adventure, suffering nobly or whatever?"

"I - no. Alex."

Alex sets his plate down and leans against the post, though he's not chained to it at the moment. "Why are you down here?"

Ryan stares at him. "Are you serious? They're crazy."

"Unless they talk you to death, I think you're fine," Alex says. He looks at Ryan, lip curling. "Are those new clothes?"

"They made me," Ryan says defensively. "They took my old ones."

"Yeah, your life is super hard," Alex says.

"What the hell?" Ryan says, abandoning formality once and for all. "Why are you being such a bitch about it? I'm kidnapped, too."

"Yeah, let's think about how that happened," Alex says, drawing himself up a little taller. "You ran off with _Brendon fucking Urie_ to prance about on a cliff top, and then were too busy being stubborn and stupid to run away while we had a chance. And the only reason we were even on that fucking planet was because Z thought it was important to coax you out of your room."

Ryan breathes in, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. Alex has spent all evening chained up, he reminds himself. He can try and be sympathetic to that. Diplomacy is key.

"I know I made a mistake," he says. "And I regret it. But I'll get us out of this. You don't need to worry."

" _You'll_ get us out of it?" Alex stares at him. "You're hopeless, Ryan! You get locked in rooms by accident! You can't follow a simple recipe! You let Brendon _Urie_ chat you up!"

Ryan blinks at Alex. He's pretty sure he should be offended right now, but there's something strange occurring to him, slow and a little disbelieving. "It's not like I knew he was _the_ Urie," he says. "I didn't even know his last name. I don't think I knew their first names, before this."

"Then you're even stupider," Alex says. Ryan watches him, wide-eyed. It's kind of fascinating, on one level. He's never seen Alex this mad before. "And even if you didn't know who he was, you still wandered off with a complete stranger on a planet you didn't know, just to -- and you are recognisable, too, did that even occur to you? That someone else might spot the Prince and think it was a good idea to lure him away?"

"I wasn't exactly _lured_ ," Ryan says.

"What would you call it?" Alex says, folding his arms. "Maybe you lured him, huh? It was just an accident that your hot hook-up turned into an evil kidnapping fiend."

Ryan laughs despite himself. "Don't worry about hyperbole or anything," he says. "Anyway, I think you're obsessing too much. Start helping me figure out how we're going to get out—"

"If I'm obsessing," Alex says, ignoring the point of what Ryan was saying, "it's only because they are, too. They're _gross_. I can't believe you fell for it. I bet you will again, too, sooner or later you're going to be all, oh, the biopic about my life isn't going to be interesting enough, guess I'd better fuck one or both of you—"

Ryan stares. "Are you," he says, and then shakes his head, trying not to smile, not quite able to believe it. "Are you jealous?"

"Oh, yeah," Alex says, rolling his eyes. "I'm really jealous. Please, Ryan, let me have a turn getting seduced by the _psychopathic twins_. You're a freak."

"Not jealous of me," Ryan says. "Of them."

Alex says, "I don't want to be crazy and evil."

"About the whole luring thing," Ryan says. "Or the hooking up. Or whatever you brought up, like, eight times in a row."

"Sure, Ryan, yes. That must be it. I totally want to draw you into some creepy threesome with way too much talking, yeah." Alex rolls his eyes. "I bet they've got a mirrored ceiling."

Ryan peers at him innocently. "I could always find out, you know."

Alex manages an indignant sputter.

"Oh my god," Ryan says. "You creep."

"What, how am I the creep here? You're the one joking about --"

"Right, yes," Ryan says. "I'm the one obsessing over what my friend - or, kidnapee, or - whatever. I'm definitely the one freaking out about someone I have no real stake in or attachment to theoretically having sex."

"With the bad guys!"

"The," Ryan repeats slowly. "Bad guys."

"Seriously?"

"No, no, they're evil," Ryan agrees. "But you really just called them the bad guys?"

"It's accurate," Alex says.

"You sound like a five year old," Ryan says wonderingly. "With the whining and pouting."

"You think I'm—"

"Yes. Stop."

Alex glares at him. Ryan smiles innocently.

The curly-haired crew member comes to chain Alex back up and take the plate away. He reminds Ryan that he can have a real bed if he so chooses, but Ryan shakes his head and that's that.

Alex lets out a slow breath. A while passes in silence between them. Eventually he says,   
"Take off my boots, would you?"

"What?" Ryan asks, staring at him. "Why didn't—"

"Forgot," Alex says, which Ryan doesn't quite believe. He supposes there must be a reason.  
Ryan is still pretty surprised to find a knife tucked inside one of them, would have figured on a more thorough search, but - he hunches over Alex's boots and makes like he's just fussing with something, makes sure to tuck it away careful and safe.

Once he's done that he sits up next to Alex, their shoulders pressed together. He didn't seen any surveillance cameras in here, but he doesn't want to risk it, all the same. He turns his head towards Alex as casually as he can, so he can say, low, "Can't cut through chains."

"I know," Alex says.

Ryan looks at Alex, and Alex looks back, steady and calm. Ryan smiles very slightly, ducks his head.

"How are you wrists?" Ryan asks after a little while.

Alex shrugs. "Not as sore as my head." He pauses, considering. "Or my ribs."

"Fuck," Ryan says. "I forgot." He touches Alex's side, gentle as he can. "Do you think they're broken?"

"Nah," Alex says. "Bruised, maybe."

"I'm sorry," Ryan says, helplessly, because all of Alex's obnoxiousness aside, he is sorry. It's pretty shitty that Alex is here, chained up; Ryan doesn't know whether to believe that Shane and Brendon won't hurt him again. Alex is their big claim to Ryan's cooperation, Ryan made that too clear, and now—. He shakes his head. "Really."

"Yeah," Alex says, softly. "Well."

Ryan nods a little to himself. Then he swallows. "Well," he says. "They gave me a coat, so." He sits up properly and takes it off, spreads it out over Alex as best as he can, smiling a little when Alex huffs as Ryan tucks him in under his chin. The coat is satin lined, so it should be alright, Ryan thinks, some vague idea of comfort. "I know it's not ideal or anything," he says, "but you could, you know, try and get some sleep."

"Thanks," Alex says. Ryan nods a little and spreads out on the floor. It's not very cold, but the chill of the cement floor is enough to make Ryan shiver, and there's no way to be comfortable, even with his head on his pillowed arms. He thinks for a very brief second of the promised bed, and then he looks at Alex and changes his mind.

"Ryan," Alex says.

"Hmm?"

"D'you want to -- there's coat enough," Alex says, and pushes it forward a little with his shoulder, the metal clinking a little where it's fastened around his wrists.

Ryan sits up. "Yeah?"

"Unless you want to lie down," Alex says, sounding a bit awkward.

"Thanks," Ryan says, and he fits his back to the post, as close to Alex as he can manage, rearranging the coat so it covers both of them. After a second, he tentatively leans in closer to Alex, picking the side with Alex's unhurt ribs, resting his head on Alex's shoulder. Alex leans right back against him, so Ryan figures it's okay. It's not that much more comfortable than the floor -- Ryan doesn't sleep very well sitting up even when he's on luxury flights -- but Alex beside him is more comforting, so Ryan thinks this is the superior option.

"What are you going to do?" Alex asks softly.

"Don't know," Ryan says. "See what they want, first of all. They seem like they're after a bit of legitimacy, maybe I can. Trick them into thinking there can be an alliance or something, if they take us back."

"But also they're crazy," Alex reminds him.

"Yeah," Ryan says. He sighs. "There is that."

They're quiet for a little while, and then Alex shifts, wincing.

"Okay?" Ryan whispers.

"Just stiff," Alex says. "And my hands are going kind of tingly."

Ryan slides his hand along Alex's arm, following the line of his sleeve in the dark. He hits the cool metal biting into Alex's wrists, and then Alex's hand, and he curls his fingers against Alex's, squeezing them as best he can.

"Hi," Alex says. Ryan ducks his head, even though he doubts Alex can see his smile in the dim light anyway.

\---

"Good morning, our little prince!"

Ryan's woken up by an over-loud voice and a sharp handclap. He blinks, bleary eyed and stiff, wondering why he wasn't - oh, right. That's why he's not in a proper bed, because Alex is tied up down here.

"So, your highness," Shane says, brightly. "You can have a proper meal with us, or you can share with Alex. Come with us, and both of you get enough to eat. Stay here, and - well, you'll have to share. We didn't plan on having _two_ prisoners, so there's really only food for the one of you."

"What," Ryan says. He's still holding Alex's hand, though loosely. He squeezes Alex's fingers - he figures they can't see the gesture, anyway - before rising to his feet. "That is not—"

"Treatment befitting your station?" Shane guesses. Ryan wonders, vaguely, where Brendon is this morning, but doesn't ask. Knowing would be helpful, but.

"An acceptable protocol for dealing with political prisoners," Ryan finishes, face set.

"But neither of you is," Shane says. "You're an honored guest, and Greenwald here is a criminal just waiting for his death sentence on the grounds of treason."

Something tightens in Ryan's stomach, his frown deepening. He makes sure he is standing at his tallest and most dignified, shoulders back. He knows he's never cut an especially imposing figure, but at least he looks awake.

"Either way," Shane says. "If you eat with us, both of you eat well. If you really want to hang out with a traitor, then." He shrugs. "Not our fault if you get a little hungry."

Ryan doesn't look down at Alex, keeps his gaze fixed firmly on Shane. Shane smiles calmly back at him, and Ryan wishes he'd opted for more combat training beyond fencing, instead of focusing on the arts. He was allowed that little bit of freedom in his studies, given a few choices, and right now is the first time he's ever really regretted it.

Not, he supposes, that it would be much better if he _were_ some sort of highly skilled fighter or whatever, because he's still deep in enemy territory. "I - give me ten minutes, okay," Ryan says. "To compose myself. I only just woke up, okay, I need a little bit."

"Sure, yeah," Shane says, with a shallow bow. "No problem, your highness."

When Shane's gone, Alex says, "Just go."

"Morning, Alex," Ryan says. "How are you?"

"Okay," Alex says. "Just go have breakfast. We should both keep our strength up."

"Right," Ryan says. "But what if, while I'm gone, what if they—"

"Don't worry about it," Alex says. "Go."

"Do, uhm." Ryan hesitates - he doesn't want to mention the knife out loud, this morning, more paranoid than before.

Alex seems to anticipate what he means, though, shakes his head. "Nah, I'm all right. I can handle eating alone."

"Okay," Ryan nods. "Right, okay."

He sits down cross-legged near Alex, facing him, and ducks his head to look at Alex's wrists. He doesn't figure he'll be able to get Alex free, but at least he can attempt a bit of a massage. He's got a bit of practice at it, too, something he picked up to charm the ladies of the court and senators' daughters into his bed, but right now it's just concern driving him.

Ryan is happy enough, even if - even if he doesn't have some star-crossed affair with Captain Greenwald. He likes to imagine that at least they're friends, and that at least he can provide some small comfort to Alex now.

Alex sighs against his touch.

"The angle's a little awkward," Ryan says, trying to keep cheerful and conversational. "This'd be way easier if you weren't chained to this stupid post."

"Yeah, well," Alex says. "You know how these things go."

"Mmhm," Ryan agrees. "Is that - okay? Better?"

"Yeah." Alex nods, straightening his legs in front of him. The lack of options must be getting pretty frustrating, pretty uncomfortable. Ryan winces in sympathy. He thought his own legs were sore, and he's had opportunity to get up and walk around.

Somehow, he doesn't think he's going to get much chance to rub Alex's legs. Plus, that's - a little weird, considering.

Ryan gets so absorbed with his task that he doesn't notice the bars lift. Alex shifts his arm a little, though, in such a way that Ryan looks up in time to see Shane's hand land on his shoulder.

"Your highness," Shane says. "What do you want to do?"

"I'll come to breakfast," Ryan says, standing again. "As long as we don't talk about anything too heavy."

"Breakfast is a stupid time for business meetings, yeah," Shane says with a chuckle. "Nobody's awake enough. Too easy to make stupid mistakes."

"Politics don't taste very good with pancakes, either," Ryan says. He pauses before actually following Shane out, says, "Alex, hey. I'll see you in a bit."

"Maybe," Shane says, leading Ryan back up to the more well-appointed portions of the ship. It's a huge vessel, Ryan's realized, but the layout seems simple from what he's seen. Directions are marked on the walls, in an archaic language that was used as the basis for the standard tongue spoken across the galaxy. Most people wouldn't know how to read it, and Ryan has trouble imagining any good reason for a shipmaker to use the old form.

He tries not to make it too obvious that he's looking at the signage, just in case Brendon and Shane don't realize he understands it, but tries to keep track of where things are in relation to each other. It could, theoretically, come in handy.

"We'll be reaching our space station in a few hours," Shane tells him, happily. "It's pretty great. Right now, we're in talks with this planet about acquiring their orbital space colonies, and managing those for them. We'd allow the current citizens to stay there, obviously, but we'd be managing agriculture and production. It's really exciting stuff."

"Ah," Ryan says, vaguely, not sure what to make of that information. "Okay."

"Local law is pretty favorable toward, you know, the areas of business that we're currently in," Shane says with a shrug. "And we're looking to expand our operations, anyway."

"Local law is favorable towards kidnapping, torture and weapons smuggling?" Ryan asks dubiously.

"Okay, see, now." Shane shakes his head. "This is why rumors are terrible. Sometimes we have to use more extreme techniques to achieve our business goals, but calling it torture, that's just childish. And kidnapping, really?"

Ryan snorts.

"Fine, fine," Shane says. "You go ahead and believe what you want. When you see our operations, that'll be proof enough that we're not that bad."

The thing that has Ryan a little confused is - without Brendon, Shane seems _almost_ sane. Not quite. And Brendon had seemed all right on his own, too. It's in combination that they get intolerable and nigh-incomprehensible.

Shane says, "Plus, depending on how things go…" He waves a hand in the air, sort of a vague gesture, then presses his hand against a pad on the wall to open the door to the dining room. Ryan wonders if it's reading his fingerprints, or if it's just touch sensitive. He wasn't paying attention last night. "I'm just saying. Your father didn't want to do business with us, but we've totally got things to offer, yeah? On both the weapons and the pharmaceuticals front. It'd be advantageous to us both, seriously."

Ryan keeps quiet, frowning.

"Ryan, prince!" Brendon exclaims, cheerfully, rising from his seat where he's been poking his spoon at a bowl of what looks to be fruit and granola. "You're eating with us! Shane, Shane, we get to eat breakfast with the prince!"

"It's such an honor," Shane says, though Ryan's not sure who he's talking to. "Dinner _and_ breakfast. Too bad we missed out on anything in between, though."

"There was dessert," Brendon says, but sighs anyway. "But man. The time between dessert and breakfast, now, that was tragic."

"Very sad," Shane agrees. "We were pretty lonely."

"Only had each other to keep us warm," Brendon nods. "Mind you, Shane's awesome, really. He is. But it would have been fun."

"Mixed things up a little," Shane says. "Added some excitement to our lives."

"Not that our lives are boring," Brendon tells Ryan seriously. "We do some very important work, but when you're on a ship at night with nothing else to do—"

Shane says, "Hey, come on."

Brendon beams at him. "Shane, Shane, Shane. Hey. I'm not, you know. Let's. After breakfast, eh?" He waggles his eyebrows. "Just you and me?"

"Yeah." Shane laughs.

Brendon turns back to Ryan. "So, hey, you sleep okay? Can't have been too comfortable down there."

"I'm all right," Ryan says, finally sitting down, rather stiffly. He still feels a bit sore and uncomfortable all over. His neck hurts, and his lower back, and his elbows, and his knees and ankles and everything else worth mentioning. He'll get over it, though, is just realizing how spoiled he actually is.

"Yeah?" Shane asks, concerned. "We'll - we could give you a massage later."

"Tag-team effort," Brendon says. "Two is better than one and all. But I mean, we've got someone on staff at the station, too, when we get back there, if you don't trust us."

"Really, I'm fine," Ryan says, coolly. "However." He taps his spoon against the side of his bowl, looking to Shane again. He really shouldn't be any more inclined to trust Shane than Brendon with testing his food, since Shane's the one who knocked Alex out yesterday, but Shane occasionally seems _marginally_ more lucid.

Shane laughs. "Seriously? Your highness - all right. But you can trust us on this." He leans over to take a healthy-sized spoonful of the prince's breakfast, eating it before going back to his own meal.

Ryan waits several moments, despite how hungry he is, just to make sure. He watches Shane carefully for a while.

Shane is probably closer to Alex's age, Ryan thinks, and almost certainly not from any of the world's under Ross family rule. He's got the smallest bit of an accent that Ryan can't accurately place, and it seems like it's brushed off on Brendon a little, too. Brendon is - more confusing, could be from just about anywhere. Ryan wants to guess he was born on a colony rather than planet-side, but there's no real proof to that. He's never heard anything more than half-coherent rumors about these two, beyond certain specific incidents.

He eats his breakfast warily, but they don't press him about anything in particular, this morning, for which Ryan is grateful. He knows the break isn't likely to last long, not now that they're nearing the Urie-Valdes stronghold.

Brendon and Shane are happy enough to talk to each other, it seems, not about anything in particular. Eventually, though, Ryan does have one question - "Is your station really called Panic?"

"Yup," Brendon says, cheerfully. "There's an exclamation point too. Panic!" He punctuates the word by doing jazz hands.

Ryan waits until they're a little further into breakfast before he says, "So I want you to leave Alex's hands free."

"Okay!" Brendon says brightly. "Pass the syrup."

Ryan blinks, and does so. "Really?"

"No," Brendon says. "Are you kidding? I mean, I know we're awesome, but we're not that awesome."

"Or stupid," Shane points out. "We're pretty awesome. We're just also not going to let a dangerous criminal free." He shrugs. "Sorry."

"Dangerous criminal?" Ryan repeats. "Look, he's still going to be locked up there, and unarmed, and one to the two of you and your crew and everything. Are you seriously weak enough that you can't handle that?"

"I know what you're doing," Brendon says, sounding delighted. "You're trying to play us! Shane, look at him!"

"It's pretty cute," Shane acknowledges.

" _You're_ cute," Brendon says, and flicks some porridge in Shane's hair. Shane grins at him, then turns back to Ryan.

"Anyway, no," Shane says.

"What if I give you something," Ryan begins.

Brendon makes a gasping noise, and tilts backwards on his chair, clutching his heart. "Are you offering to sell us state secrets for a criminal's comfort? That's not very impressive, Highness."

"I'm not sure I want someone with such loose morals to be the head of my government," Shane says, biting his lip. "Do you, Brendon?"

"I'm worried about my rights," Brendon says. "What if His Highness wants a new fluffy blanket for a pirate he's taken a liking to and is like, oh, if you give it to me, I'll abolish freedom of press?"

"It's definitely a concern," Shane says, affecting to bite his nails. "What do you think we should do?"

"I'm not offering state secrets," Ryan says, glowering at them. "I'm saying I'll give you something."

Brendon leans forward, grinning wickedly at him. "Like what?"

"I don't know." Ryan eyes Brendon warily. "A hug?"

"I think I'll need a little more convincing than that," Brendon says. "Sweet as the offer is."

Ryan looks at his hands for a moment. "I'll stay up here with you two tonight," he says. It makes something tight and miserable form in his chest, but it's not like Alex seemed very glad to see him last night, anyway. Probably comfort is more important than the guy who got you into the mess in the first place. "If you unlock Alex's hands, I won't make you take me back down there."

Brendon looks at Shane and raises his eyebrows. Shane doesn't react, just keeps chewing his breakfast, but Brendon nods decisively all the same and turns back to Ryan. "Sold."

"You going to sleep in with us?" Shane raises his eyebrows, smiling small and secret.

"I want to sleep in that bed you said you had for me," Ryan says.

"Aw, that's no fun." Brendon pouts.

"You already made the deal," Ryan reminds him quickly, even though he's not sure they would have any great qualms about stepping out of it again.

"Yeah." Brendon sighs and then perks up. "We'll give Greenwald a blanket if you sleep in with us."

Ryan narrows his eyes. "And another two meals today."

Brendon nods.

"Okay," Ryan says. "I'm not having sex with either of you, though."

Shane smiles at him, a little condescendingly. "Sure thing, Highness."

"It can be like a slumber party," Brendon decides, sitting up straighter. "We can have popcorn. And movies."

Ryan tries not to groan out loud.

The ship engages in docking procedures before Ryan realizes that much time has even passed. He hasn't done much in the interim; Shane and Brendon are leaving him alone, mostly, which is nice. Ryan likes it better when they leave him alone.

Brendon gets over-excited, bouncing on his heels while he waits for them to be able to disembark, and as soon as possible bounds off the ship, spinning in a circle on the station's metal floor. He grins wide, darting back to take Ryan by the arm. "Your highness, your highness, welcome to Panic! We're - we just got it a year or two back, isn't it great?"

"It's a space station," Ryan says, blandly.

"But it's a station with charm and class," Brendon tells him, earnestly. "We took the design very seriously when we commissioned this place to be built."

"We really did," Shane says. "Took a few months planning before construction even began."

"Built up in space, off a platform at an old asteroid," Brendon says, cheerfully. "We hung out there for a while overseeing it. Not the whole time, of course, we had important business to attend to."

"But this was important business as well," Shane explains. "Lots of little details to work out, like the wiring, the plumbing. We both know the place by heart, really."

"I know it better than the back of my hand," Brendon tells Ryan, cheerfully. "Because who looks at the back of their hand that often, anyway? It's always there, but it's not like I'm examining it in detail."

"Right, yeah," Ryan says, almost laughing before remembering himself.

"Oh, oh, hey," Shane says, leaning in to peer at Ryan's face. "Was that a smile? I think I almost saw a smile. _Brendon_. I was beginning to think he was unable."

"Maybe a vitamin deficiency or something," Brendon says, nodding. "That's what I was thinking."

Ryan rolls his head and, once again, resists the urge to laugh. this time he manages not to smile, either. He has more important things to think about. "Where's Alex?"

"Oh, he's being taken care of," Brendon says.

Ryan stiffens.

"We just mean he's getting transferred to a cell here on the station," Shane says, touching Ryan's arm in a way that's probably supposed to be comforting. "He'll still get his two other meals and a blanket, don't worry."

Panic! is, for obvious reasons, a good deal larger than the ship, with wide corridors and arched, sweeping ceilings. Ryan is unwillingly impressed by the scale and style of the place. There are a lot of decorative details, too; not quite what Ryan would choose if he were designing a space station, but interesting enough.

"Let me give you the grand tour," Brendon tells Ryan, smiling. "There's a lot."

Ryan knows this is just a distraction, though from what, he's not sure. So he just shrugs. "Do I have to?"

"It'd be so nice if you did," Shane says.

"And when you're nice," Brendon adds, "we're nice, too." He pauses. "Well, nicer. We're pretty nice already."

"Right, whatever," Ryan says.

"Does that mean we can give you the Grand Tour?" Shane asks, and Ryan nods, because he doesn't know what else to do, and he figures that he should try and make sure they don't get too annoyed. He's not sure, at this point, what would annoy them. Maybe trying to punch them, but he's not going to try that.

\---

The Grand Tour eats up what's left of the afternoon, and Ryan's head is reeling a little. He knew the space station was going to be big, but it's still huge, and complex. He tries to keep track of all the corners and corridors, but there seem to be flights of stairs everywhere, and there are no handy directions on the walls. Ryan thinks that he needs to remember it, he needs to be competent, because they're going to get out of here and it's got to be up to Ryan, but after a while he starts to feel tired and his feet hurt and he can't even appreciate the vaguely cool stuff Brendon and Shane have got set up. There's a music studio, and a photography studio, and a mini-arcade, among other things, and there's even a set of gardens hidden deep in the centre of the station, greenhouses with exotic flowers, overgrown like a jungle. Ryan's not really in the mood to appreciate it.

Eventually, Shane looks at him and says, "Ooops. The prince is flagging, Brendon."

"And I'm hungry," Brendon agrees. "We can show him the pool later. Come on, Highness."

Dinner is simpler that night, vegetables and a side of meat. Ryan stares down at it. "Alex doesn't eat meat."

"Why not?" Brendon frowns.

"He's a vegetarian."

"So am I," Brendon says, digging into his steak.

Ryan blinks at him. "Um, what?" He turns to Shane, hoping Shane will explain it, but Shane is just smiling fondly at Brendon.

"Yeah," Brendon says. "My dad used to hunt, and once I went along with him and my brothers and they made me shoot a rabbit." He looks at Ryan, eyes huge and mournful. "It was so traumatic. Worst experience of my life."

"So now you don't eat meat," Ryan says, watching Brendon take a bite of steak.

"I'm conscious of animal rights," Brendon says, nodding.

"And cows?"

"I like cows," Brendon says. "They have those big eyes." He grins at Ryan, sharp and fast. "Also they taste delicious."

"You're kind of a freak," Ryan mutters. Brendon laughs. Ryan says, "Make sure Alex has extra vegetables."

"Maybe," Shane says.

"Oooh," Brendon says. "After dinner, you want to play scrabble?"

\---

They play three endless rounds of scrabble. Shane wins them all, though he only beats Brendon because Brendon keeps trying to insist made up words are actually obscure animals or musical instruments or dramatic customs on far-off planets. Ryan's actually pretty good at scrabble, but his head hurts and he's not in the mood for it tonight. He wonders if Alex is okay. He wishes he could go down there. Shane and Brendon's constant chatter is making him a little bewildered, like sooner or later they're going to talk him into believing everything he says. He just wants to go and sleep on Alex's shoulder again.

He doesn't suppose anybody told Alex why he was getting the extra care, and wonders if Alex is wondering where he is. If Alex thinks that he's given in, or changed sides, or whatever.

Finally, Shane looks up and announces, "Bedtime."

Brendon beams, jumping up and tugging Ryan up by his elbow. "Do you want pajamas?" he asks. "You can have some of mine. We collect them." He considers Ryan, head tilted to the side. "They should fit."

"Okay," Ryan says. "Fine."

They leave him alone to get changed and brush his teeth, which Ryan's kind of glad of. When he comes back into the bedroom, they're both tucked into bed. There's a conspicuous gap in the middle.

Ryan makes a face. "Can we sleep top-to-toe?"

Brendon and Shane reach out at the same time to pat the space in the middle meaningfully. Ryan sighs and climbs in, and they both immediately wrap their arms around him.

"Can you not?" Ryan says, muffled with his face pressed into the pillow. He's flushing, a little. It's stupid and weird and he wants Alex.

"You're stopping me from touching Brendon," Shane points out in a reasonable voice. "I have to reach over you."

"I have to lie close so Shane can reach," Brendon adds, spooning up behind Ryan.

"I agreed to - sleep in the same bed, not to this."

"What?" Shane says. "What's this? We're not doing anything."

"But," Ryan says, faintly. He doesn't think it's quite worth it, and squirms a little trying to hunch away and be in as little contact with the two of them as is possible given the circumstances. It doesn't help much.

"Shane," Brendon whispers. "Shane. Hey."

"What."

"I wish you had your camera," Brendon says.

Shane actually sounds tired. "Why?"

"So you could - well, you'd have to be two people, also. So you could take a picture of the three of us. This is so cozy."

"Very cozy," Shane says, tapping his fingers against Ryan's shoulder. "Just."

Whatever Shane's going to say, he doesn't finish his sentence.

"You're so far away, Shane," Brendon says, sadly.

"So're you."

Ryan says, "Can you stop talking? I'd like to sleep."

"We're being quiet, though," Brendon says, apologetically. "Sorry."

Ryan bets Alex thinks the worst of him, right now. Alex was already jealous, which was kind of hilarious and flattering, but at the same time - probably Alex thinks Ryan has given in too easily. Probably Alex thinks he's sleeping with the enemy.

Technically he is. Whatever Alex thinks is probably worse than the reality, though.

When Ryan wakes up, he's feeling well-rested and comfortable and also kind of stupidly sad. Brendon and Shane have backed off a little, at least; they're just touching him with their hands resting on his chest, their fingers intertwined. Ryan stares at it and rolls over, but he doesn't jostle them off, they just sigh and Brendon's breath is warm against Ryan's neck.

Ryan wonders what it would be like, anyway. Brendon was a good kisser. Maybe, maybe it would be fun to be with people who actually want him, even if they are evil. He shivers a little with cold, even under the blankets, suddenly not so comfortable anymore. He rolls over again, trying to get comfortable.

"Whatsit," Brendon mumbles. Ryan's sort of glad despite himself that Brendon doesn't immediately launch into being wide awake and obnoxious first thing when he wakes up.

"Brendon?" Shane sounds sleepy and confused, too. He stirs next to Ryan. "I -- where are you?"

"The prince is in the way." Brendon yawns hugely. "Remember?"

"Oh," Shane says, sounding oddly lonely.

Brendon raises their joined hands and thumps it down hard on Ryan's back, just once. "See? Here I am."

"Ow," Ryan says.

"Shush," Brendon says. "I'm saying good morning to Shane, your turn will come."

He leans over Ryan, resting his elbows on Ryan's back, and Ryan hears them kissing above his head. He makes a face at his pillow, and then sits up sudden enough that Brendon gets knocked off, and their heads bump.

"Hey!" Brendon says, wounded. "What did you have to do that for?"

"Fuck off," Ryan says, never at his most eloquent in the mornings. "You're a freak and I hate you."

"Hey," Shane says, voice and face hard.

"What?" Ryan says, glaring. "You haven't noticed that your boyfriend's kind of crazy?"

Shane cuffs him across the back of the head, a little too hard to be friendly or even teasing. "Watch it," he says.

Ryan breathes out, looking at them. Brendon is hunched into Shane's side, looking mollified and a little pleased, and Shane has his arm around Brendon's shoulders.

"Whatever," Ryan says. "Like I care."

"You'll care if something happens to that goddamn pirate," Shane says.

"I should have let you shoot him," Brendon tells Shane wistfully.

Ryan frowns, getting out of bed. He doesn't know that there's anywhere for him to go, but any little bit further he can get from Brendon and Shane is good enough.

"Hey, hey," Shane's saying to Brendon, voice quiet and sweet. "He doesn't know you that well, dude, that's all. It's okay. Chill."

Brendon's got this vague attempt at a smile that he offers up to Shane, and Shane grins and taps him on the nose. Brendon laughs, delighted and easily distracted from whatever bothered him.

It's weird, too, because Ryan hasn't exactly been polite to them, so that moment - maybe he can figure out how to get to them, or Brendon, at least, and from there… something. Ryan doesn't know what. He makes a face to himself, then says, "All right, are - when is breakfast?"

"Whenever," Shane says with a yawn. "Things are more lenient on the station than the ship."

"It's like a little town," Brendon says, cheerfully. "In space. Shane, man. It's going to be so sweet when we get that colony."

"Fresh air, green grass," Shane says, nodding. "Sunlight. Weird-ass perspective. Shit, taking pictures is going to be crazy, the way the horizon just goes - up."

Ryan says, "If breakfast is soon, can we go get it?"

"Oh, yeah," Brendon nods. "Right, sorry. Shane, hey. Up. Up. Time to face the day."

"What? I'm up already. It's you who isn't up."

"You are not," Brendon says.

Shane waggles his eyebrows, and Brendon cracks up, scrambling out of bed.

Brendon says, "You're so weird. Man. I lo -- it's the best, the _best_." He turns that happy smile of his on the prince. "Shane's such a jerk. It's awesome. Do you, hey, you want an omelet? Let's get omelets today."

"Can we pick what we get, like, order food?"

"Yeah, sure," Shane says. "Thought you were used to meal plans and all. We'd have let you pick something earlier but it seemed like it would be more familiar if you just got stuff."

Ryan shrugs. "Choice is nice, too."

"Not when you're really drunk and eat shitty food at three in the morning," Brendon says.

Ryan doesn't even crack a smile.

"Fine, whatever. Okay. Omelet time."

\---

As they're finishing up, Ryan says, "Can I see Captain Greenwald? I want to assure his condition is. Acceptable. Is that? want to make sure you haven't been treating him toopoorly."

"Hmm," Shane says, looking to Brendon. "All right."

"One hour," Brendon says. He grins. "After that we come get you."

It's a different guy who shows Ryan down, this time, a big burly man with a surprisingly nice smile. He tries to draw Ryan into conversation, and Ryan responds as politely as he can, but he's distracted and not at his best. The guy doesn't seem to mind, at least.

Alex's cell is a little cleaner, this time round. It's grey cement again, with no windows, and there's a door instead of bars. The guy swipes a security card against the black box on the outside of the door, and it clicks open.

"In you go," the guy says. "One hour."

"Yeah," Ryan says, and doesn't look behind him when the door clicks shut. Alex is curled in on himself in a corner, his back to the door, blanket tucked around him, and Ryan breathes out and goes and sits next to him. It's okay if Alex doesn't wake up. Ryan's okay with sitting quietly and knowing that Alex is there.

After a little while, Alex stirs, blinks up at Ryan in a confused sort of way. "Is it night time?" he asks.

"No," Ryan says. "It's the next morning, now."

Alex says, "Oh, I thought I was. I thought it just felt long."

"No," Ryan says. "I mean, it might have. It was just actual long, too."

Alex sits up a little, rubbing his eyes and straightening with a groan. "It's -- wait, then you were. Where were you, last night?"

"In with Brendon and Shane," Ryan says, because he can't be bothered coming up with a way to make it sound right or even a lie.

Alex stares at him. "What the fuck."

"I didn't -- whatever," Ryan says. "I just slept in their bed."

"With them," Alex says.

"Yeah," Ryan says.

"Fuck." Alex shakes his head, laughing shortly. "Well, at least you held out for a whole -- what, twenty four hours?"

"I didn't sleep with them," Ryan says. "Or, like. Not properly. Technically I did sleep."

"You realize this doesn't even make sense," Alex says. "I mean, even if you're telling the truth, you're still a freak. I know it's not that comfortable down here but sharing your kidnapper's bed is a little bit—"

"I shared with you," Ryan says.

Alex blinks, looking derailed. "That's not the point."

"I know," Ryan says. He rubs his face with his hands, says, "Fuck, Alex, I just. They're kind of scary and I don't, I don't want to fight with you, can we just not, please—"

"You know what's a really good idea when you're scared of someone?" Alex asks. "Don't sleep with them, technically or figuratively."

"Yeah," Ryan says. "It was dumb." He looks down. "On the plus side, I think Brendon doesn't like being called crazy? Like, to his face, or when it's just him and not Shane, so. That's. Something to know."

Alex nods, slowly. "Yeah. It is."

"Can I -- Alex, can I please just lie down for a moment," Ryan says, because his head hurts a little bit. "Can I just. Please?"

Alex looks away. "I guess I'm pretty dumb, too," he says finally, and then he lifts up the edge of the blanket and Ryan ducks under his arm and lets Alex ease him back to the ground. Alex lies very still, staring up at the ceiling, but he's still got his arm underneath Ryan's head, holding the blanket up around them, and Ryan takes it as an almost invitation and curls into Alex, wrapping an arm around Alex and pressing his face against Alex's side. Alex smells so good -- not particularly clean, just now, or like the expensive shampoo and aftershave that Shane and Brendon clearly have, but he smells true and familiar and Ryan gulps in a breath, eyes feeling oddly prickly.

"Hey," Alex says, smoothing Ryan's hair back from his head. "Hey, you're. Are you okay?"

"They just talk all the time," Ryan says. "They keep talking and I can't -- they make me start thinking they're right, after a while, they start making a weird kind of sense."

"I know," Alex says, sounding tired. He keeps touching Ryan's hair, pushing it back from his face, steady, warm movements. "I know. It's okay."

"And I just." Ryan breathes in shallowly. "I don't know how we're going to get out of here. It's so big and -- they're fucking _insane_ , and they get, they get inside my head—"

"It's okay," Alex says. Ryan clenches his hand in the fabric of Alex's shirt. Alex bends his head for a moment, breath puffing warm against the top of Ryan's head. "Look, I know it's more comfortable, but maybe don't sleep in with them for a while, okay? Being able to get away is important, and if they're not making you, then probably it's not the best thing to do."

"I know," Ryan says thoughtlessly, "but you needed a blanket." Alex goes still, and Ryan licks his lips, feeling dumb again, and says, "Anyway, they're just. Not very nice."

"I know," Alex says, after a moment. He pulls Ryan in a little closer to him, arms warm around Ryan. "I know."

"I'm doing my best," Ryan says.

"You're doing good," Alex says, and then, very low, "I'm sorry."

Ryan lies quiet for a little while. Then he says, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Alex says. "I'm good. Eating my veggies."

"Good," Ryan says. "That's, it's important. Grow up big and strong."

"So I've been told," Alex says.

"They're not -- not doing anything to you—"

"No," Alex says. "I'm alright." He presses his mouth against Ryan's hair for a second, and Ryan closes his eyes, breathes out. "You did good," Alex says, so soft Ryan almost misses it, but Ryan doesn't. He nods a little to himself.

"Hey," he says. "Can we. Pull the blanket up."

"What?"

"Like a fort," Ryan says, and Alex laughs and does as he's told, pulls the quilt up over their heads, so the dim light gets even dimmer, and it's just them blinking at each other in a tiny, warm space.

"Better," Ryan says, decisively.

"If they try to pull anything, at least," Alex says, voice lower than before. He says it to the curve of Ryan's ear rather than to Ryan's face, close enough that Ryan's feeling the vibration of sound, and the warmth of Alex's breath against his face. "You can, y'know, protect your virtue."

"Save myself until marriage and the throne." Ryan curls up closer to Alex, scrunching his eyes shut. He laughs a little. "You're right, though, thank you." In his left boot, the knife he got off Alex earlier is tucked away, stiff and cool and oddly comforting against his leg. There's sock between it and his skin, and the way it's held, Ryan hasn't stabbed himself yet. It's a wonder Urie and Valdes didn't find it at some point yesterday.

"I bet they hate forts," Alex says. "Other than their own."

"I don't know." Ryan laughs a little, thinking about it. "I could see them - deciding their whole crew needed to help build the biggest pillow fort of them all."

"Declare themselves the sovereign rulers of pillow fort land, yeah." Alex nods. He starts petting Ryan's hair again, says, thoughtfully, "Weird they're not keeping me chained up this time."

Ryan makes an agreeable noise but doesn't want to say anything. He doesn't want Alex realizing just how much of a bargaining tool he's become. Alex is pretty smart, though, and probably knows already anyway that it's not just the blanket Ryan got for him. Ryan doesn't want to talk about it.

"You want me to tell you a story?"

Ryan laughs, startled. "What?"

"I swear it's relevant," Alex says. "It makes sense in context."

"If the context is that I'm five years old, then yes," Ryan says. "Story-time makes plenty of sense in that case. But I'm not, so."

"Well, damn," Alex says, snapping the fingers of his free hand. "Here I thought you were a child. You say you're an adult?"

"Shut up," Ryan says, almost giggling. He's so, so glad Alex is all right. He really wants to kiss Alex right now but that seems a little cliché and ridiculous, and also - if they were to lose track of time or whatever, Ryan doesn't think he'd get a good reaction if Brendon and Shane or one of their guards found him making out with Alex underneath a blanket.

"So," Alex says. "Once upon a time, on a colony between the world and the moon, there was this family with six children. That was enough for them, but this family was kinda weird, and when the mother got pregnant again, they decided to keep the kid. They were a little disappointed when the little guy was born, because they'd hoped, if they had to have another child, that they'd get another girl. Since he was the youngest, he got lots of attention, but it wasn't always very good. Kind of a - troubled past, whatever, so the kid grew up into a troubled youth."

\---

Several years passed, but the kid didn't go to school or anything; he stayed at home and his parents and eldest siblings taught him on their own, even though technically, legally, he was supposed to be enrolled in at least one colony educational program. The colony sent an official down, because there'd been issues with these people before, and they signed that kid up for a music class and nothing else, which wasn't really that great but better than nothing, yeah?

So you've got this kid, he's maybe eight and it's his first time really outside the home, and he thinks it's _awesome_ or whatever, tries spending more and more time on his own as time goes on. Then Mom gets pregnant again, right, and this time it's a girl, which everybody's pretty relieved about. Seriously, though, they need to learn about some fucking birth control, because at this point it's ridiculous, and the colony thinks so, too, is about ready to send down a legal mandate.

Now, okay, that's admittedly pretty fucked up, but - space colonies don't have as much in the way of resources as planets do, and there's trade and all, but that's different. They don't have _laws_ about how many kids you can have, but they kind of tend to have guidelines, at least. Suggestions. And most people on a colony aren't going to be that fertile and aren't going to want to have that many mouths to feed, anyway. Plus they'll actually remember to use some damn protection. So it's kind of a fucked up situation, but whatever, colonies are weird sometimes. Some of them. At least this one, apparently.

("Right," Ryan says. "What's the point?"

"Shut up, I'm telling the most accurate version of the story I can," Alex says. "I mean, all of this could be totally wrong."

"Wait, what?" Ryan says. "What's this story about?"

"Let me finish," Alex says, patiently.

"Okay.")

So. Okay. We've got this kid, we've got his pregnant mom, we've got a pissed off colonial government. None of the family's other kids are involved in any colony programs at this point, because they're old enough where legally they can be withdrawn from the system. They all went through about the same thing, but they're kind of weirded out that little dude doesn't hate everyone in his classes and doesn't think they're, I don't know, immoral or something. So when the kid isn't bitching and moaning about it, and when he's not coming to his parents for the truth about the lies he's being fed and all, they get pretty mad about that.

Kid's mom ends up losing the child due to complications, but she refused medical care, so it was kind of - not her _fault_ or anything, she might have lost the kid anyway, but it was still sort of weird and the whole family was kind of pissed, and mom had this whole, blaming their seventh kid for the death of the eighth, wishing that this kid had been a girl instead, which I guess made classes pretty weird, too, because for a while there. Anyway. Weird shit. That part's mostly rumors, so let's not.

Anyway, time passes, kid turns thirteen, doesn't have to go to any of the colony programs any more but he's made friends with this really normal kid. Our kid decides he wants to keep learning music. Parents say, "Sure, fine, as long as you make sure not to fall prey to outside influence." So it's all stupid, and anyway, this part doesn't matter as much, I guess?

After that it's kind of - I'm not sure, most of that is on record with the colony, but not publically. You have to kind of. Finagle your way to get access. A few more years go by, kid gets good grades in his one class. Notes in his file mention that he's got a few friends. Then he gets withdrawn from classes really suddenly in the middle of a semester, and records go vague as shit because he's back with the family and I guess they're being careful.

(Ryan frowns a little. "Wait."

"Hm?"

"Is - never mind, okay. Keep talking."

"Are you actually listening to the words I'm saying, or am I just talking? Because then the kid went to the planet of the unicorns, flying on the back of a magical turtle that knew all about the history of the universe -"

Ryan snorts. "That's not what happened."

"No?" Alex says. "How do you know?"

"Because," Ryan says, patiently. "Everyone knows turtles can't fly.")

Right, so. Our kid is maybe seventeen at this point, next we hear of our intrepid protagonist, and there's - okay, interlude, I just want to mention that this friend of his from music class is on record as having asked after him several times and trying to visit at least twice, but that didn't go over too well. Anyway, so.

Next we really hear of the kid, he's walking from the burning wreckage of the family home and singing a song. Coughing a lot, too, I guess, but mostly with the singing. After that, some boring bullshit with questioning and psych evaluations and whatever, then he disappears for a while and we hear about him on - so this colony's above a planet with one moon, and we hear tell of some incidents of arson on the lunar base, too. Fires in space are a pretty big deal, because they eat up valuable material and oxygen and aren't really any good for anyone.

Anyway, so. Kid is really good at dropping off the radar entirely at this point.

("Huh," Ryan says, thoughtfully. "Wait, how does this help?"

"Doesn't, really," Alex shrugs. "It just took me a really fucking long time to find all this out, so, you know. Enjoy?"

"I don't know how much longer we've got for story time," Ryan says, dubiously.

"Probably just enough," Alex says.)

After a while, the fires stop, or at least the fires that are going on when the kid's around. Things get quiet, and anybody keeping an eye out for him from his old colony figures he's either dead or settled down somewhere or, something, anything, really. Nobody cares that much. Not enough to go find out.

Anyway, this is where -- I'm a little hazy on details, but as best as we can work out, the kid runs into his old friend from the colony, from his music class. Small galaxy, and all that. At first, they're both pretty delighted, best friends forever and all that, but things are kind of different, because the _kid'_ s different these days. A little off the wire. Also, while he's sort of hanging out with his friend, the kid meets this new guy, and he gets -- a little bit enraptured with the kid, because he's lived a pretty sheltered life -- not freakishly so, just, you know, kind of boring, and suddenly the kid seems to be offering all these possibilities again. Only with less fire nowadays.

A lot of the people around them notice the kid and his new friend going a little weird, you know, a little out of control. And they try to talk them down, try to tell the kid's new friend to take things easy, try to explain to both of them how things are going to get really fucked up if they're not careful, but one day they wake up and both the kid and his friend are gone. And a while after that, things start cropping up in news bulletins again, crazy shit going down, and then eventually, the kid and his new friend's names start showing up again, and everyone knows what happened. Or knows enough.

\---

Alex takes a breath, and Ryan says, quietly, "Is that it?"

"Yup," Alex says. "Story time's over."

"Does that mean it's nap time?" Ryan asks, and Alex laughs. Ryan stays quiet for a little while. "How did you find all that out?" he says eventually.

"All over the place," Alex says. "Some of it's guesswork. We hacked into a bunch of old records, and the colony he was from blew up a couple of years later -- not literally, like, big civil riots, the local government there was pretty crappy, a whole bunch of the stuff they'd tried and failed to handle came out. We found his name in a lot of the welfare service reports, but they'd never managed to do anything about him."

"Right," Ryan says. "How long ago was it?"

"Not that long," Alex says. "I don't know, ask him how old he is."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass," Ryan says.

Alex says, "Anyway. Now you know."

"Yes," Ryan agrees. He pauses. "How long have I been in here?"

Alex bites his lip. "Half an hour? Forty minutes, maybe?"

"Yeah," Ryan says. He wonders if Shane or Brendon will turn up early, just to be mean. He doesn't want to go. It's warm and comfortable here. He lowers his voice, "What should I start looking out for?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They're pretty careless, I think," Ryan says. "Or -- they don't see me as much of a threat. If I -- I think I can maybe smuggle some stuff down here. Like -- a gun?"

"That would be good," Alex says, making his thoughtful face. "A map, if you can -- lots of stations have maps of their own interiors, they might be near fire escapes, or fire extinguishers, something like that. Storage rooms are a good bet, too. A set of keys would be unbelievable, but don't risk getting noticed -- only if you're coming down here at night and they're tired and won't notice them missing or something. A comm device."

"Okay," Ryan says, trying to remember if he's seen any of those things lying around.

"The other thing is, everyone's going to be out looking for us," Alex says. "They might have guessed, too -- Urie and Valdes' ship must have shown up on the planetary records, and if Jeff's hacked into those, then they'll work it out quicker. Don't freak out."

"I'll try not to," Ryan says.

"Don't be afraid to lie," Alex adds, as an afterthought. "And if they decide to try and pass you off as a rescue attempt to your own government, just -- get in there and try and fix things. At least you'll be safe. People will listen to you, right?"

"I'm pretty sure," Ryan says. "But they might -- they'll take a while, and I bet Brendon and Shane won't hand you over, too."

"I'll be okay," Alex says, and smiles at him.

"I'm not getting off the station or ship or whatever without you," Ryan says. "What do you want me to do with the knife?"

Alex's eyes are a little shiny, in the dark. He clears his throat and says, "Nothing, for now. I mean, self-defense if you need it, but try and keep it hidden, avoid the temptation to use it even for -- cutting something, if you're trying to steal something, or whatever. It's a last ditch thing, only use it if you're really in trouble."

"Got it," Ryan says.

\---

The door opens up - "Dinner time, your highness." It's just the big guy again, not Shane or Brendon, that Ryan can hear, but he pulls the blanket down just enough to peek out and stare at the guy wide-eyed and ridiculous. "... Your Highness?"

Ryan starts laughing. "We made a fort."

"Right," the guy says. "Time to go. I think Captain Greenwald can hold down the fort."

"Not leaving my heavily defended position," Alex calls back, raising his voice since the blanket muffles things. "Hope you'll forgive me, man."

"Yeah, it's cool," the guy says. "All that really matters is I fetch the prince."

"Have fun, Ryan," Alex says, and Ryan gets up very carefully. "... Okay, it's not as cool down here alone."

"Sorry," Ryan says. "I'll have to come back."

"Might be a bit before that happens," the guy says, sounding surprisingly apologetic. "But hey. Ian's going to be bringing your dinner down in a little bit, all right?"

"Thanks," Alex says.

Ryan blinks, sort of confused and surprised by that little conversation. He'd have expected more antagonism, but then, he doesn't know where Brendon and Shane's crew all come from, how loyal they are or if they're only here for money. Ryan thinks that might be worth sounding out, but he doesn't really know how to be subtle about it, and for once he's willing to admit his own failings. He doesn't want to tip anybody off by asking too many of the wrong questions in the wrong way.

"Hey," Ryan says, anyway. "What's your name? I didn't catch it earlier."

"Zack Hall," the guy says, holding out his hand, then looking unsure about if he should or not. Ryan shakes his hand anyway, giving him the kind of gracious smile he gives to politicians and infants in photo-ops.

"Pleased to meet you," Ryan says. "You - presumably already know this, but I'm Prince George Ryan Ross the Second. But like I said. You knew that." He shrugs.

"Introductions must be weird when everyone knows who you are."

"I'm supposed to introduce myself anyway," Ryan says. "But it seems a bit redundant, you know?"

"It's polite, though," Zack says. "You don't want to assume."

"Right, right," Ryan nods. "No, I know." He's feeling a lot happier right now, though not actually _happy_ just - less worried, more confident that he might be able to do something useful in getting himself and Alex out of here. Still terrified of Brendon and Shane, but being scared of them is probably wise.

They're both there when he gets to the dining room, and Zack bows out respectfully. Like lunch, Ryan gets to pick what he wants to eat, so he just picks something simple with egg noodles and butter and spices.

"You don't want something more interesting?" Brendon asks.

"There's plenty of stuff with way more flavor that you could have," Shane says earnestly. "You think of it and we can probably make it."

"Unless it involves saffron," Brendon says, making a face. "We don't have any."

"Too expensive," Shane says. "Even for us."

"We've done pretty well for ourselves, but," Brendon shrugs. "It's a lot to spend on a spice, you know? There are other things to be bought and sold before that."

"Saffron is pretty good, though," Ryan says, quietly. "And nothing substitutes for it. But that's okay."

"I'm not sure I've even had it," Shane says.

"You guys should have someone prepare something with it for you," Ryan says. "Just once, maybe. To see."

"Maybe," Brendon says, thoughtfully, then smiles. "Good idea. Always better to try new things, right?"

Ryan frowns.

Shane says, "What? He's right. You can't just discount something you've never tried, even if maybe you think it's not worthwhile."

Neither of them is actually saying anything all that ridiculous, but it seems like they're making more of an effort toward including Ryan in their meandering flow of conversation, and it's a little worrying because Ryan's really tempted to just roll with it.

"Uh," Ryan says. "Anyway, I mean. What I've got is fine. Wouldn't make sense to have saffron in this. Why did - how did that even come up?"

"Oh, yeah," Brendon says. "We were saying - you can order other stuff as long as you don't want it seasoned with saffron, I guess."

Ryan nods.

Shane says, "So me and Brendon were talking, earlier."

"You always do that," Ryan says, and Brendon laughs, delighted. Shane sort of chuckles. "You do!"

"Well, you know," Shane says. "We have a lot of thoughts."

"And opinions, that we—"

"Share and all, since –"

"Sharing is caring," Brendon finishes, cheerfully, then starts laughing again. "Oh my god. Shane, shut the fuck up, that was so dumb."

"You started it," Shane says.

"What? How did I start it," Brendon says. "I didn't even. That was all you, my friend, _all_ you."

"You went along with it, though." Shane holds his hands up. "That part wasn't my fault."

"What else was I going to do? Let you finish your own sentences? C'mon, now. Would I do that to you?"

"Never," Shane says, then both Brendon and Shane are quiet for a second and Ryan realizes they're staring at him.

Ryan covers his mouth. He hadn't actually realized he was laughing, really.

Brendon glances at Shane, then says, "Anyway, Ryan. Hey. So we were wondering."

"And thinking."

"Wondering if you'd be up for looking over some documents we've prepared," Shane says.

"Just a few proposals, nothing worth signing yet," Brendon says, poking at his plate with his fork. "I mean, we haven't finalized things, but just, you know. We can discuss."

"Get some things hashed out, make necessary revisions," Shane says. "No big deal, really."

"Anyway, there's this pretty sweet movie we just got, we were thinking it'd be cool if - you know, get some business out of the way, kick back a little."

Ryan hesitates.

"Greenwald comfortable down there?" Shane asks casually.

"Fine," Ryan says. "Let's see the papers."

Brendon beams at him. "After dinner," he says. "Don't want to get them all messy or whatever."

There's hot, sweet black tea after dinner, and Ryan sits down on the couch and takes the folder they hand him warily. He tries not to make a face at the first page. There's a lot of legal jargon, and while he's pretty good at navigating that, he's a little out of practice and he thinks Brendon and Shane are the type to try and hide sly clauses and agreements in footnotes and subordinate ideas and all sorts of tricky little things.

Ryan flips to the next page, reads the first two paragraphs and gapes. "You're not serious," he says.

"They're very useful!" Brendon says. "And both affordable and accessible -- they'd bolster the economy like you wouldn't believe--"

"They were banned for a reason," Ryan says. "The reason being that teenagers were _blowing each other up_ with them."

"A small rise in gang warfare can't be considered a proper concern in today's marketplace," Shane says.

"The benefits will far outweigh any negative side-effects," Brendon agrees.

"There's no way you'll get me to agree to this one," Ryan says flatly.

Brendon nudges Shane. "For now," he whispers, loud enough that Ryan has no problem hearing. Shane nudges Brendon back.

Ryan turns to the next set of papers, and the next. There's a lot of things he expected -- annulling old warrants on various crews associated with them, and a couple of Wanted For Questioning calls out on their own heads, safe passage through the kingdom. There's some plain stupid ones, like a complete relaxation of the prescription laws, and weird ones that Ryan doesn't fully understand, demands for the release of records of political prisoners who died years and years ago, a lift on the ban of trafficking of certain plants.

It's overwhelming and ridiculous and Ryan finally looks up and says, "I don't think this is going to work."

"Aw, come on," Shane says.

"There's no need to be like that," Brendon agrees.

"I think we've been fairly reasonable," Shane says.

"Hey," Brendon says thoughtfully, "how low can we turn the temperature in the cells? I'm pretty sure it gets into minus degrees, right?"

"Don't be mean," Shane says, but he's grinning at Brendon in delight.

"I am charming and wonderful," Brendon says. "But whatever, let's talk about it later, huh, Highness? C'mon. Movie time."

The movie is to be shown in Shane and Brendon's bedroom, to Ryan's overwhelming lack of surprise. Brendon says, "So, look, we were thinking about this, and just--" and guides Ryan to sit up with his back against the headboard, while Shane punches a code into the wall and a silver screen slides down. Brendon sits on one side of Ryan, and Shane sits on the other, and they both have their arms around Ryan's shoulders so they're kind of holding onto each other, too.

Ryan tries hard to concentrate on the start of the movie, even though he can't stop thinking about Shane and Brendon wanting to get those awful missile guns back in, and some of the creepiest guys who have tried to blow up marketplaces in "political protest" going free, and Alex saying that he shouldn't sleep with people who scare him.

"Hey," Brendon says, soft, almost sweet, and nuzzles against Ryan's cheek. "Turn your brain off."

Ryan jerks away a little, but the other direction is Shane, who offers up a sympathetic smile.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Brendon says, quiet and nearly apologetic. He shifts the arm he has around Ryan's shoulder so he can stroke Ryan's hair. Ryan tries not to shudder, and eventually manages to just focus on what's happening on-screen.

He's having a little trouble paying attention, though - and wakes up to the ending credits an hour and a half later. Apparently Shane and Brendon have traded off on who gets to stroke Ryan's hair. Brendon's head is slumped against Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan is pretty sure he's asleep.

"Shh," Shane says, confirming Ryan's suspicions. "Been a pretty long couple of days for us. Let him sleep."

"He can go back to sleep," Ryan says. "If I just get up and - you have spare quarters, right."

"Yeah," Shane says. "Come on, though."

"What?"

"It's just late," Shane says. "Extra work for our staff and crew."

"Not that much," Ryan says.

Brendon makes a sleepy noise, squirming closer against Ryan's side. Ryan isn't all that awake right now as it is, and it'd be so easy to just fall back asleep. He's warm, and reasonably comfortable, and the bed is nice quality. The room's quiet and dark, and it'd be so easy -- "Let me have a room," Ryan says. "You said I could, earlier."

Shane lets out a quiet sigh. "I'll escort you."

\---

Shane leans in the doorway, watching Ryan fuss about a little getting ready for bed.

Ryan says, "What are - you can go. I'm just going to bed."

"I know," Shane says. "My apologies, your highness."

"Then go?" Ryan tells him, a little dubiously. He doesn't mean it as a question, but that's how it comes out.

"At least," Shane says, standing up and taking a step back from the door - "Hopefully it'll be a more peaceful night for us all."

"What." Ryan levels a blank stare at him. "You two had a perfectly peaceful sleep last night."

Shane's gaze is long and considerate. "You kick in your sleep," he says finally, and closes the door behind him.

\---

Ryan wakes up in increments, trying to work out where he is. He doesn't have anybody around him to remind him, this time, and the plain walls of the room don't offer much insight, either.

Eventually he remembers enough to think he should probably get up before Shane and Brendon come looking for him. When he gets up, though, he's told that they're still in bed, and it's not until he's halfway through breakfast that they come out, Brendon hanging off  
Shane's shoulders.

"Hello, prince," Brendon says. "How did you sleep?"

Ryan opens his mouth to answer, but Brendon isn't actually paying any attention to him. Shane is smiling at him, and Brendon leans up to kiss Shane, short and sweet, quick little kisses that make Ryan look away.

It's not like they've been subtle. It's just that this is the first time Ryan's felt like he shouldn't be watching, like it's not for anyone but them.

He clears his throat. "Can I go see Alex? I mean Captain Green-"

"You haven't even hung out with us yet," Shane says without looking at him.

"Right," Ryan says, shortly.

"Yeah, so," Shane says, sitting down. He pulls the chair next to his in closer with his foot, and only once the two chairs are right side by side does Brendon sit down, smiling at Shane still.

"You're up late this morning," Ryan says. He doesn't have a clock, but it feels late, and he never wakes up especially early anyway.

"We had a long night," Brendon says. "You know how it is. Or maybe you don't, for all I know."

Ryan rolls his eyes but doesn't otherwise rise to the bait.

"Hey, hey, wait," Brendon says. "Did I ask already if you slept okay?"

"Yeah," Ryan says. "It was all right. I'd rather sleep in my bed at home, mind you."

"Well, of course," Brendon agrees. "Wouldn't we all?"

Shane lifts his eyebrows in a way that, when Brendon's eyes flick to him for a second, makes Brendon starts laughing.

"Anyway, we've got the morning pretty much free right now, up until an hour or two before lunch," Brendon tells Ryan cheerfully. Shane sort of obviously tunes out in favor of having breakfast - Brendon isn't especially dedicating his attention to any one task at a time, alternating between eating and talking and gesturing exuberantly with his spoon in the air. "Then we have some things to take care of, and if you're not otherwise occupied I _guess_ you can go talk with the pirate for a bit, but it still seems weird how much you go down there. Like, he isn't a good dude."

"He is," Ryan says. "He's - either way, it doesn't really matter if he's a good person or not, does it, because he's still a citizen and one of my subjects, and I need to make sure he's being treated well."

"We're feeding him," Shane says. Ryan hadn't realized Shane was even listening.

"And he's got a blanket."

"And his hands are free," Shane finishes.

"So really, as prisoners go, he's doing all right," Brendon says. "Sink, toilet, cot. It's pretty nice."

"Nicer here than on our ship," Shane says. "He can brush his teeth and everything."

"He'll probably need a toothbrush for that, though," Brendon says, blanching a little. "I don't think he's got one."

"Pirates are supposed to be pretty resilient, right? He'll figure something out."

"The point is, anyway," Brendon says, using his spoon to emphasize the point - "The point is, we're treating him far better than we probably should."

"Yeah, you're a pair of saints," Ryan says.

"See, you're being sarcastic now," Shane says, wagging a finger.

"But we totally are," Brendon says. "We're very saintly."

"If you wanted to use your power and influence to -- what is it?"

"Canonize us?" Brendon suggests.

"That's the one," Shane says. "Anyway, you know. Feel free."

"As far as I know, church and state are still separate," Ryan says dryly, "but I'll keep it in mind."

Crawford comes in a little while later, looking a bit fidgety. "Are we going to go, guys?" he asks.

"Maybe," Brendon says, mournfully.

"Depends upon how nice His Highness decides to be," Shane says.

"What?" Ryan eyes them warily. "Go where?"

"You don't have to go anywhere," Shane says. "It's -- our friend's getting married today."

"Zack," Brendon says, nodding a little. "You met him, right?"

"Yes," Ryan says. "Is that where all your staff is?"

"We're cooking for today and everything," Brendon says. "Really, it's kind of an adventure."

"Except for how we wanted to see Zack get married," Shane says.

"It's on a planet a couple of miles from here," Brendon says. "Not far, but we're going to wait until evening, make sure you're all sleepy and not about to find a way to run off or call someone or anything. We want it to be a proper surprise when you go home, you know, and you calling ahead might ruin that. See how noble and sacrificing we are, hanging out with you all day?"

"Then we'll join the celebrations," Shane agrees.

Ryan folds his hands in his lap, considering. "How do you know I won't run off while I'm sleepy?"

"You'll be tucked up in bed," Brendon says, with a faintly surprised air. "All warm and safe and drifting off to sleep."

Ryan blinks at him in confusion. Then: "Oh," he says. "And locked in, right?"

"I'm horrified you would even imply we could do such a thing," Shane says.

"Me, too," Brendon says. "I mean, it's not our fault that doors get stuck sometimes, right?"

"Saints," Ryan says, stabbing at some of his scrambled eggs. He makes a face. "How are you going to get there, anyway? If the rest of your crew have already gone with the ship?"

"We don't use a ship for such tiny trips, c'mon," Brendon says. "What a waste of fuel. We'll just take the shuttle from the Left Wing. You know, we pointed it out to you on the tour."

" _Brendon_ ," Shane says, looking horrified. "No, we didn't! For a reason!"

"Oh," Brendon says. "Ooops."

Shane rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on," Brendon says. "It's not like he can--" He changes direction, talking to Ryan. "It's not like you can use it, Princey, don't get any ideas. Locks are coded to our voices, and I don't think we're going to be letting you fly off any time soon, so." He smiles, just a little bit nastier than usual.

"Brendon," Shane says, dropping his head into his hands and groaning for a minute. "Why don't you just tell him how to drive it, too?"

"I imagine even the Prince can drive a shuttle," Brendon says. "It's standard issue."

Shane stares at him. "You disgust me."

Brendon throws his arms around Shane's neck and starts regaling him earnestly with tales of how good and wise Brendon is and how lucky Shane is to have him. Ryan smiles into his scrambled eggs.

It's a little shorter notice than he'd like, but he thinks he can work with this. He gets up and wanders over to the sideboard to deposit his dirty dish, and then he casually tips one of the smaller digital clocks into his pocket.

"What kind of creepy bonding activities do you have planned today, anyway?" Ryan asks, turning around and leaning against the sideboard. "Got any murderers you'd like released? Any great swathes of territory you'd like us to name in your honor?"

"I want a school," Brendon says. "You want a hospital, Shane?"

"And a park," Shane agrees. "Valdes Park. All the benches will have little brass plaques on them that say Property of Us."

"Even the ducks will be ours," Brendon says, leaning against Shane and sighing a little.

"And the duck pond."

"And the crazies wandering around inside," Ryan adds helpfully.

"Don't be stupid," Brendon says. "Why would we let crazy people into our park?"

"They'd find a way," Ryan says. "They always do."

"Hmm," Shane says. "You'd probably know, as ruler of an actual - civilization and all."

Brendon huffs, a little indignant. "He isn't ruler yet. He's the heir apparent still."

"Oh, well," Shane says. "Clearly that changes everything."

"I still know about the problems facing out national and planetary parks to this very day. The clinically insane are drawn to duck ponds like iron shavings to a magnet." Ryan is using his joking voice, though he doesn't reckon they'll actually catch on.

It takes a second, though, and Shane starts laughing.

Brendon says, "What, that wasn't even that funny."

"It was so stupid, though," Shane says.

"And now you're insulting a member of the royal family to his face," Ryan says, holding up a finger. "On top of - on top of the kidnapping, and holding him against his will, and the mistreatment of a citizen of his kingdom… I'm going to run out of fingers, guys, you really need to quit it with the crimes."

"Hey, hey, freedom of speech," Shane says. "You've got that. I'm exercising it."

Brendon says, "Maybe not in the most diplomatic way, though."

"Definitely not the most diplomatic," Ryan says.

"Shane, Shane. The prince could come to the wedding with us. That way we could keep him properly entertained and supervised and all."

"Eh," Shane says. "He didn't get an invitation. There probably wouldn't be a seat for him, and I mean. It's probably _some_ sort of crime, not giving the prince a seat at a wedding."

"I don't recall any specific statutes, but it probably falls under cruel and unusual punishment," Ryan agrees. "Weddings are already boring enough."

"Man, Zack's wedding won't be boring, he's the _best_ ," Brendon says, defensively. "But Shane's probably right. You can just rest easy and not complain during the best wedding of them all."

"For now," Shane says.

Brendon peers at Shane curiously. "For what?"

"The best wedding of them all for now," he clarifies.

"Oh." Brendon blinks a few times. "Is there an even more awesome one coming up?"

Shane shrugs, taking a second to think. "There could be? Like - just. If his highness here gets married at some point, that would be pretty impressive, I imagine."

"But lacking in the friendly charm of our favorite crew member's wedding," Brendon says sadly.

"I have plenty of friendly charm," Ryan says, primly. "I just choose not to exercise it around criminals."

Brendon starts laughing again.

\---

It ends up being a couple of hours before they finally send for Crawford to come and take him down to Alex, and Ryan tries not to look to relieved. He's nervous and twitchy and trying to keep as friendly as possible, like he's warming up to them or making an effort or something, and he wants to talk to Alex, wants to see if it's viable.

"One hour," Crawford says again, on the way down, and Ryan nods.

Ryan can see in the little window at the top of the door as they come down the stairs towards Alex's cell, and he frowns a little. Alex is pacing around the inside of the cell. Ryan looks at Crawford and Crawford shrugs, looking briefly guilty.

"He's been doing that all day," Crawford says. "Maybe you can calm him down or something."

"He hasn't got very much space," Ryan says.

Crawford doesn't respond, swiping his card over the door and letting Ryan in. The door closes behind them, and Alex looks up and exhales. "Hi," he says.

"Hey," Ryan says. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Alex says, holding onto his elbows, arms close to his chest. He looks a little wild, even though he's trying to smile at Ryan, and Ryan nods to himself, just once.

"So I think I've worked out how to get out," Ryan says.

Alex stares at him. "Really?"

"Depends," Ryan says. "Can you -- when Crawford comes back in to take me out, can you knock him out or something? And take his gun?"

"Yeah," Alex says, "probably. But there's not much point. I can't take everyone on this station, even with a gun."

"There's no one else here," Ryan says. "They've all gone to a wedding, except Crawford and Brendon and Shane."

Alex tilts his head to the side, something like hope flashing in his eyes for a moment. "I'm not sure I can get them, either," he admits. "Not without them -- they're pretty fast. And they'll be locking their door when they go to sleep, it's not like I can sneak up on them."

"I can handle that," Ryan says, "but I'm going to need you to punch me."

\---

Ryan curls up in an armchair back upstairs, pressing his forehead against his knees. "Highness!" Shane says, coming back into the room. "You're early. Surely you didn't miss us -- oh, hey. Shit."

Ryan stares at Shane. "I didn't want to be down there, anymore," he says.

"Did he -- what did he do?" Shane's staring, and Brendon's watching silently, his chin hooked over Shane's shoulder.

"We were arguing," Ryan says, touching his eye automatically where it was tender and sore. He doesn't think he's ever had a black eye before. It's an interesting feeling. "About -- about whether or not it was my fault that we ended up here, and."

"Do you want an icepack or something?" Shane asks. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have left you down here alone."

Ryan shrugs. "I'm okay," he says, and looks down, wondering if letting his lip tremble a little would be overkill. "I just liked him," he says.

"Right," Shane says.

"But like -- he's a bit of an asshole, really," Ryan says. He laughs shakily. "I mean. Obviously."

"Yeah." Shane takes an uncertain step towards him, Brendon following, holding loosely onto Shane's hand with both of his.

"But," Ryan continues, "people only usually like me because I'm the Prince, or whatever."

"Well," Shane says.

"I liked you before you said you were the Prince," Brendon says, speaking up properly.

Ryan tries not to roll his eyes. "But you knew, the whole time."

"Hey, c'mon," Brendon says. He comes and sits on the seat of the chair next to Ryan, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I told you that you were pretty, didn't I? I would totally still have liked you."

Ryan is working hard not to laugh now. They're kind of adorable, in a clumsy crazy sort of way. He lifts his head instead. "Yeah?"

"Sure thing," Brendon says, smiling down at him, and Ryan reaches and kisses Brendon, a little off-balance, like he can't help it, like it's the only thing left for him to do. Brendon makes a surprised noise, but curls down towards him, cupping Ryan's cheek in his hand and kissing him back, warm and friendly. Ryan winds his arms up around Brendon's neck, dragging him in close.

There's a touch on his back, and Ryan opens his eyes and breaks away from Brendon enough to see Shane smiling down at him. Ryan stands up, and says, "Sorry, sorry, I—" and makes to walk away.

"Hey, no," Shane says, catching his arm, and turning him back around. Shane's a good kisser, too, and Brendon presses up warm against Ryan's back. It feels good, Ryan's not going to pretend, pressed warm between their bodies, but he's concentrating on Alex, Alex with the clock telling him when, Alex's mouth and hands and the way he'd touched Ryan's eye afterward, upset. It's not that hard to pretend that Alex makes him sad, in some ways, it's not so hard when Alex doesn't want him.

"Is anyone going to come in," Ryan mumbles, and Shane and Brendon laugh at the same time, delighted and surprised.

"All alone, remember," Brendon says, sing-song, and he and Shane kiss over Ryan's shoulder, warm and familiar. Ryan turns a little in the circle of their arms, and unbuckles Brendon's belt, pushing his trousers down, watching them pool at Brendon's ankles with Brendon's belt, Brendon's guns. He turns around and does the same thing to Shane, and they both press in closer to him, cheerful and friendly.

Ryan tilts his head back when Brendon kisses his neck, turning his face towards the door. "C'mon," he whispers, and Shane takes it as invitation to drag his t-shirt off.

Ryan's just starting to wonder if he's going to need to come up with a reason to delay things when the door bangs open. Shane and Brendon both freeze.

"Hi," Alex says. "I'll have my prince back now, if you don't mind."

Shane shakes his head in disgust. "I have no idea how you plan to do this, Greenwald," he says, "but I think you'll find--"

"Shane," Brendon says, voice pitched a little higher than usually, and Ryan waggles his finger in a wave at Shane from where he's standing behind Brendon, Shane's gun pressed to Brendon's head.

"No, hey," Shane says, a little desperate. "It was - we were going to get a park named in our honor, not in memorial. Think this through, your highness."

"Maybe you should have thought this through," Ryan tells him cheerfully. "Could have helped. So hey."

"How about that shuttle on the Left Wing?" Alex asks, looking - sort of predatory with his teeth showing in a wide grin. His eyes are narrow, and he's a bit dirty, and Ryan has to remind himself that, right, Alex doesn't want him. Ryan can still appreciate, though, on a visual level. Probably he should focus on the task at hand.

"It won't work for either of you," Shane says.

"It'll work for you and Brendon, though, won't it?" Ryan asks, wide-eyed and wondering.

"Yeah, but -" Brendon starts.

"No," Shane says. "This, this is sovereign territory, we're out of your domain so this is hijacking and -"

"And theft," Brendon says. He's shaking. "And assault, and - other things. It's unfair."

"Right," Ryan says. "Let's go. C'mon. Somehow I think I'll manage, I mean. I have a pretty good legal team, you know."

\---

"So how much fuel does this thing have?" Alex asks.

Shane shrugs.

Ryan taps the barrel of the gun against the back of Brendon's head, pointedly.

"Not much," Shane says. "You can make it to the planet and back but that doesn't, won't do you much good."

Brendon looks very scared and sad and Ryan feels almost guilty about that. Probably that's fucked up, but at least he's self aware enough to realize it.

"Nah, that's plenty," Alex says. "Oxygen enough for the round trip?"

"Yeah," Brendon says. "Only just."

Alex grins. "Sweet."

"Navigation system?" Ryan asks, and Shane nods. "What about communication?"

"Basic stuff," Shane says. "If you know a ship's calling code—"

"Awesome," Ryan says. "Reckon Z will be able to get here in time to pick us up, Alex?"

"One way to find out," Alex says. He sits down in the driver's seat, gun still pointed at Shane over his shoulder somewhat unnecessarily, and turns it on, the shuttle humming into gear.

"Shane," Brendon says, voice shaking.

"You're not going to take him with you," Shane says, eyes darting between Ryan and Alex. "You're not -- you're not going to—"

"I don't know," Alex says. "Ryan, what do you think?"

"They seem to be a pretty big fan of prisoners," Ryan says. "Maybe we could shut Brendon in a tiny room for a while, see how he likes it."

"You raise a good point," Alex says thoughtfully.

Shane swallows hard. "Please," he says, like it hurts.

"I guess he'd eat up more than his fair share of the oxygen," Alex says.

"Yeah," Ryan says. "Also, kind of obnoxious."

"Right," Alex says. "And he seems kind of into you, you know? It must be hard, being a prince, dudes crawling all over you all the time."

"I am looking forward to some personal space," Ryan agrees.

"Alright, well." Alex stands up again, pointing his gun at Shane. "Step back from the doors."

"No," Shane says. "Listen, this is -- I'm not going to let you—"

Alex clicks the safety off, pointedly. Brendon says, " _Shane_ ," and Shane stumbles backward.

"Ready?" Ryan says, and Alex has one hand on the controls again.

"Yup," he says.

Ryan gives Brendon a shove, sending him tripping out of the shuttle and into Shane's arms, and then the doors are hissing shut and they're taking off, a burst of speed as they leave the station and power out into the dark.

"Fuck," Ryan gasps, and Alex presses a button on the controls and gets up and hugs him, unexpected and hard enough to knock the breath out of Ryan. He clings onto Alex as best he can, though, fingers digging into Alex's back, breathing him in, and Alex laughs. Ryan closes his eyes, pressing his cheek against the curve of Alex's shoulder. "We should," he says, "we should call Z. Try and find out where they are. Do you really think they might be close?"

"If they've worked out where we are, there's a good chance," Alex says.

"So, yeah," Ryan says. "We don't have a lot of time."

"We don't," Alex agrees, without letting Ryan go.

\---

They manage to hail the ship, and at first Z shows up on the tiny screen on the console with a scowl on her face, saying, "Just return our captain, and we'll - hey, wait."

"Hi, Z," Alex tells her, managing to sound cheerful.

"Are they - where are you, what is this?"

"On a shuttle," Alex says. "Can you come grab me?"

"Sure, right, what are your coordinates?"

Alex tells her, and she hums to herself for a moment, adjusting controls, says, "We'll be there in maybe three hours, how's that?"

"Eh," Alex says with a bit of a wince. "Cutting it awfully close there. We can get a bit closer, we'll keep heading along the same trajectory until the fuel burns out - we'll still have momentum, obviously, but."

"But you don't really want to run out of fuel, yeah," Z says. "Heating and all."

"Heating and all," Alex agrees. "It's a pretty small craft, so the oxygen recycling is - pretty inefficient. So if you could maybe shoot for two rather than three? I don't know what kind of speeds the new ship gets to, but that'd be great."

"Oh," Z says, sitting at attention. "Oh, shit, okay then. We'll do our best."

"Thanks," Alex says.

"So I take it - what happened with the prince, do they still have him? Maybe they just let you escape because—"

"Hi, Z," Ryan says, leaning into view to wave. He has to lean on Alex's shoulder to balance, since it's kind of an awkward angle. "What's up?"

"I _thought_ two hours sounded awfully short," Z says reproachfully. "But if that's for two people. Right. Like I said, we'll get there."

"Thanks," Alex says. "See you soon, Z. I missed you."

"We missed you too, captain," she says, saluting the camera before shutting off the call.

"So. Okay," Alex says. Ryan's still leaning on his shoulder, having kept quiet for most of the conversation.

"It's - I was worried you'd come in too late," Ryan says. "I was half ready to pull out the knife, you know?"

"Man. Of course you would bring a knife to a gunfight," Alex says, sounding relieved and fond. He frowns a little, though, and Ryan - Ryan wants to hug him, so he does a mental shrug and hugs him again anyway. He can do that. It's all right. "You and your fucking sword."

"I don't know what happened to it," Ryan says, sadly. "I mean, I have more. But it would have been pretty awesome to face down evil-doers with my… blade of justice."

"Your blade of justice," Alex repeats, dubiously, laughing. "Really?"

"Yes."

Alex sighs, still amused and grinning, and presses his face against Ryan's neck. His breath is warm against Ryan's skin, and the way he's holding on isn't really fair, Ryan doesn't think, since Alex _knows_ \- but whatever. Ryan is okay with this for right now. He's being reassured by the contact, and he's pretty sure Alex needs it after being cooped up in mostly-solitary confinement for nearly a week.

"Hey," Ryan says. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm resilient," Alex says.

"Yeah," Ryan agrees. "You really are."

Alex hums a little, like he's pleased. "I'm going to walk around the whole ship," he tells Ryan.

"That will be fun," Ryan says politely, and Alex laughs a little, hanging onto Ryan, still with his face tucked against Ryan's neck. Ryan stares over the top of Alex's head. "You think Z will get to us in time?"

"Pretty sure she'll manage it," Alex says. "I don't know how fast the new ship goes, but. It's Z."

"Right," Ryan says.

"She might blow up the ship getting into a drag race with some asteroid, though," Alex says, wincing a bit.

Ryan smiles, and Alex sighs a little, readjusting his grip for ultimate comfort or something. Ryan wonders how soon is too soon to politely shrug Alex off, because he's -- he's not big on self-control, and also he had to spend five minutes or so making out with two guys in the name of liberty, and he's wound a little tight just now.

"It's nice," he says, instead of any of that, "to like -- quiet when it's not night time, you know."

"What? Oh," Alex says, and Ryan can feel his grin, fuck. "Yeah, I guess they didn't shut up much, huh?"

"Never," Ryan says. "They never shut up."

"What was that stuff about parks?"

"Oh, they decided they were going to -- buy all the duck ponds, or something," Ryan says. "No, not buy, like. Claim. We were going to cede all the duck ponds to them and then they could have appropriate wooden benches with their names on it, it was all a bit convoluted."

"Man," Alex says. "They're -- I can't decide if escaping was an accomplishment or kind of pathetic that it took as long as it did, considering how crazy they are."

"I'm going to stick with accomplishment," Ryan says.

"Yeah."

"They were pretty competent," Ryan says.

"They were."

"And it was a friendly victory, too," Ryan says. "No one got hurt or anything. So we get the moral high ground."

Alex lifts his head a little, the corner of his mouth twitching. "That was important to have," he says. "And Valdes running after us in his underwear was pretty hilarious."

"There you go, then," Ryan says. He swallows. "Alex, d'you wanna, like." He doesn't want to be the first to step away, but. He's not sure how much longer he can handle without doing something stupid.

"What?" Alex says. "Take a nap to conserve oxygen?"

Ryan blinks. "I wasn't going to say that, but."

"Oh, wait, you meant - hm." Alex doesn't finish the thought, so Ryan can't tell, for sure, if he _actually_ gets what Ryan meant or if he just has silly ideas in his head. He thinks not, possibly, since Alex doesn't bother moving.

"Alex," Ryan says, a little like a warning.

"What. I'm appreciating you for a job well done. An accomplishment."

"Appreciating being a creep?"

"That too, yes." Alex nuzzles at Ryan's ear. Ryan is fairly certain that's not fair, and if he were making the rules he'd ban the move as cheating. "But hey, no, look. You managed a stunning display of competence."

"Hey, I'm plenty competent," Ryan says, trying to sound easy and self-assured and mostly failing. "All kinds of competent."

"Sure, right," Alex agrees. "You managed to _lose a sword_. Very competent."

"But then I came up with a plan, so I feel that's valid."

"Maybe," Alex says. "Maybe your mom's valid."

Ryan laughs, because it's stupid and nonsense, and then, because Alex is there and hasn't moved and Ryan knew he was on the verge of doing something very stupid the whole time, Ryan lifts and turns his head just enough to press his lips against Alex's for the second time, now. Possibly third, depending on whether certain little moments while Alex wasn't properly conscious count, but Ryan thinks they don't.

What Ryan really wants to do is duck back in for another and another, but he realizes that's a bad idea and jumps back away, eyes wide. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

Alex stares at him, and Ryan hopes he'll offer forgiveness or wisdom or prove Ryan's apologies unnecessary, but instead, Alex just asks, "Man, how many people get apologies from a prince?"

"I - what?"

"I mean, a personal apology from the prince of the seven stars, that's pretty impressive," Alex says.

"Okay." Ryan stares at him.

Alex says, "What?"

"Nothing," Ryan says. "I just. Maybe I will have a nap."

"Conserving oxygen," Alex says, nodding. "Good idea. I'll join you."

"Um," Ryan says. "Shouldn't one of us stay awake in case the shuttle crashes or whatever?"

"It's on auto-pilot," Alex says cheerfully. "I imagine it'll start blaring alarms at us if something goes wrong."

"Okay," Ryan says, "well."

"I think this set will go back enough for both of us to fit," Alex says, and sets the driver's chair back all the way, until it's lying vertical. It's a fairly roomy chair, it would fit one of them comfortably, but. It's a _chair_.

"Um," Ryan says.

"There's a blanket in here, too," Alex says, rummaging in the cupboard under the controls. He sits up and looks at Ryan, a little impatiently. "Are you gonna lie down?"

" _Um_ ," Ryan says, a little urgently.

Alex just looks at him, raising his eyebrows, and after a moment Ryan sits down on the edge of the chair. Alex comes and drags him down until he's lying on it, and then he shakes the blanket out over the two of them and rolls over, peering at Ryan in an interested sort of way.

Ryan stares at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

"How's your eye?" Alex says quietly, reaching out and touching just the edge of the bruise. Ryan hisses a breath through his teeth. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Ryan says. "Not so bad."

"Yeah?"

Ryan bites his lip, risks turning his head to smile very slightly at Alex. "I haven't ever been punched before," he confesses, and Alex actually _giggles_ , just for a moment.

"I had a feeling," Alex says.

"I guess it's not the kind of thing you expect princes to get into," Ryan says. "Fistfights, I mean."

"Also, you got this really surprised expression," Alex says. "Like, even though you knew it was coming."

"Yeah," Ryan says.

"I am sorry, though," Alex says, and he strokes his thumb along the edge of it and down Ryan's cheekbone and then he tilts his head to the side and smiles, cautious and warm.

"Alex," Ryan says, and Alex leans in and kisses him, lingering longer than Ryan has dared these past few times. Ryan's breath hitches and he opens his mouth a little, enough for Alex to deepen the kiss.

Then Alex pulls back. "Naptime," he says, and puts one arm around Ryan and closes his eyes.

"What," Ryan says, but Alex only grins and appears to go straight to sleep. Ryan stares at Alex's smooth face, his hair falling across his eyes, and wonders if Alex is trying to kill him or something. He's never going to be able to sleep, he thinks, and then he closes his eyes and opens them again to the sound of the shuttle being pulled into Alex's ship's docking chamber.

It's not the smoothest of landings, the shuttle scraping ominously against a wall, but there's just room enough.

Ryan is kind of having trouble waking up, blinking a lot. Sitting up, he feels a bit dizzy, and he gasps for air but it's stale and near-useless. It's - he can't really think but then the airlock opens. Alex is still asleep, Ryan notes, but suddenly there's more air.

He's not really sure what's going on, but Darren has him by the arm. Darren keeps talking, and Ryan only half pays attention to the, "Hey, your highness, just going to get you out of here and get you some fresh air, okay," and all and then he's sat on a box in the cargo bay blinking at the light and taking fast, shallow breaths.

"Got you just in time, it looks like," Jeff tells him. Ryan blinks at him.

"Hi, Jeff," Ryan says.

"Hey, Prince Ryan," Jeff says. "What's up?"

"Oh, you know," Ryan says, vaguely. "Alive."

"Yeah? That's good."

"Right," Ryan says, then startles. "Alex -?"

"Sam and Darren've got it covered."

"But he's okay."

"Yup," Jeff says.

Ryan frowns at him, a little skeptical. "You're sure?"

"Yes, your highness, I'm sure," Jeff says. He sounds possibly a little sarcastic. If Ryan were feeling just a little bit better he might - chastise him or whatever, for that, and it would probably be a joke but right now he isn't sure he can manage jokes. They seem a little complicated.

Ryan presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose and breathes.

"Your Highness, hey," Z says, patting him on the knee as she goes by. This crew is way too familiar with him. It's kind of great. He starts laughing, but Z's already gone so it's probably not a big deal.

Jeff watches him warily. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, you know, I just - got kidnapped and then almost got done in by _oxygen deprivation_ , no - not a big deal."

"Right, right," Jeff says. "Yeah, that's small stuff, really. I mean, one of your boots is scuffed, that's enough to drive anyone mad. That other stuff is nothing."

"Precisely," Ryan says. He really, really enjoys breathable air. Probably it's good he and Alex went to sleep when they did. He wonders, if they'd stayed up longer - probably they would have used up more of it. Probably that would have been very bad.

Ryan hops to his feet just so he can give Jeff a hug.

"Your Highness?"

"I think I'm allowed," Ryan says. "To give hugs as necessary to, you know. The crew that saved my life."

"Right," Jeff laughs, patting him awkwardly on the back, and Ryan decides possibly the others deserve the same treatment. Also, he wants to figure out where the heck Alex has gotten off to.

He looks around the room, but Alex doesn't seem to be there, and Z is heading off with a frown on her face. Ryan thinks his best bet is to follow her, so he gets to his feet and starts off after her, stepping carefully because he's still a little dizzy.

Alex is heading up the hallway, and as Ryan watches he veers to the side and bumps against the wall, and Z hurries to catch up with him. Ryan would hurry, too, but he's a little nervous about banging into the wall himself.

"What are you doing?" Z says, sounding a little amused.

"Oh, hi," Alex says. "I'm just. I'm making sure the ship is okay. The ship's okay, right?"

"We handled it okay," Z says.

Alex nods, and Ryan draws up near to them. Alex smiles at him. "Hey. How you doing?"

"All right," Ryan says. "You?"

"My head hurts," Alex says. "But I'm okay."

"Which is why you went racing off," Z says, rolling her eyes.

"I've missed my ship," Alex says, a little plaintively. He pats the side of the wall in a comforting sort of way, like the ship's missed him, too.

Ryan puts his hands in his pockets. His breathing feels pretty much normal again, now, but he's still drowsy and dry-mouthed. He wonders if talking Alex into going back to sleep with him is a possibility. Maybe it doesn't make much sense now that they're in a ship that has more than one chair to sleep on.

"Okay, but, Alex," Z says. "You're okay, right? Like, last minute oxygen deprivation aside, they didn't—"

"No," Alex says. "I'm good, it's okay."

Z turns to Ryan with a worried expression. "Looks like they roughed you up a little, though, huh?"

"What?" Ryan stares at her, confused.

"Your eye," Z says, gently.

"Oh, no, Alex did that," Ryan says. "Mostly they just tried to sleep with me."

Alex starts laughing. Z stares.

"What?" Ryan says.

\---

"Hey, Your Highness." Someone has their hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake, and Ryan sits up with a jerk, heart in his throat, but it's just Darren.

"Ugh," he says. "Look, can we just -- let's just everyone call me Ryan, okay, I've had enough of Highness for a while."

"What?" Darren stares at him.

"Shane and Brendon are really creepy," Ryan tells him.

"Uh, okay," Darren says. "Well, anyway. Did you want to go find an actual bed to sleep in?"

"Where am I? Oh." Ryan looks around the kitchen. His neck is a bit stiff, from sleeping with his head in his arms. "I was eating."

"You were," Darren says, grinning a little. "You almost fell asleep in your soup. Tennessee got it out of the way just in time."

"You're welcome," Tennessee says, without looking up from her card game with Sam on the other end of the table.

"That would have been an ignoble drowning," Ryan says.

"It's cool," Darren says. "You survived. A close call, but, you know."

"Right," Ryan says.

"Anyway," Darren says. "So, bed, and also, Z and Alex wanted me to tell you that we're heading back to the capital now, so. You could be home in a day or so."

Ryan swallows hard. Then he looks up, and tries not to jump, because Alex is standing just a little way beyond the doorway into the kitchen, leaning against the wall and watching him. What a creep, Ryan thinks fondly.

"You know," he says, "I've just been through, like. A very traumatic experience. Maybe -- do you think it would be okay if we could put off going back for a couple of days, still? I don't want to return all grumpy or whatever."

"Oh," Darren says, looking a little surprised. "Hey, yeah, I mean. I'm sure it'll be no problem."

"Cool," Ryan says. "Well, that's good."

In the doorway, Alex nods very slightly and turns and walks away. Ryan smiles down at his hands.

"Probably a good idea, anyway," Darren says, "if you can't handle people calling you Highness." He winks at Ryan.

"Exactly," Ryan says. "Hey, so. About that bed."

"Your room's the way you left it," Darren says. "Unless you think you need an honor guard to find it again."

"I'm very honorable," Tennessee says.

"She is," Sam agrees. "And totally isn't cheating. Seriously - ow! No kicking, that's not how you win at all."

Tennessee just smiles sweetly across at Sam. "Just let us know, your - Ryan."

"Your Ryan," Sam repeats, laughing. "That's really, that was good, made a lot of sense. Congratulations."

"Hey. You try and remember not to call the prince his highness."

"Okay, I will," Sam says. "Ryan. Hey, Ryan. Look at me, I got your name right the first time, Ryan."

Ryan starts laughing a little helplessly - a bit confused, but mostly happy to be back. "I'm just going to go now. Have fun saying my name, I guess."

"Will do, Ryan," Sam says, giving him a sharp salute.

\---

There are a lot of notes tacked to Alex's door, but Ryan doesn't read them. Even though they're out facing the hallway, it feels like an invasion of privacy, but there's a get well soon card, and it looks like someone - their handwriting's awful - complained about a brief malfunction of something-or-other. Ryan gives up on it.

The door slides open easy and smooth. Alex looks up, pausing in the middle of pulling a sock off.

"Hey, Ryan."

"Hello," Ryan says. "I - couldn't get my door open, you know how I am with that kind of thing. So I hereby demand, by order of the crown, that you share your bed with me."

Alex waggles his eyebrows, clearly making a concerted effort not to laugh - "Will I be justly compensated for my inconvenience?"

"Hey, c'mon now," Ryan says. "Remember that time I got you a spaceship? If anything you're just paying off your debts."

Alex twists his face up in thought, then nods slowly. "I guess you have a point."

"Of course I do," Ryan says, and he bends to pull off his socks, and then his trousers, and then he straightens and Alex is still watching him, something wicked and glad playing around his mouth. Alex is wearing a t-shirt and boxers, sitting on the end of the bed, and after a second Ryan pulls his shirt off, and starts towards Alex, slowly. He's not quite sure what he's expecting, what's going on, but when he loses his courage at last minute and goes to turn and walk around the side of the bed, Alex reaches out and catches his wrist and pulls him down.

Ryan's a little nervous he's going to fall backwards onto the floor, which would probably put a decided halt to any of these proceedings what with Alex laughing at him a lot, so he pushes Alex backwards until he can stretch out over Alex on the bed, and then they're kissing again, slow and hot with Alex stroking lines down Ryan's bare back, and Ryan trying to hold himself up a little, elbows on either side of Alex. Alex starts smiling, ruins the kiss, and Ryan draws back laughing a little, lets Alex shuffle further up the bed and pull his shirt off before Ryan straddles him again, distracted for a moment from Alex's mouth by the sudden expanse of skin to explore.

"How's your head," Ryan says, not quite sure why, pressing his face against Alex's throat for a moment. He can feel the vibration when Alex talks, darts his tongue out to taste it, curious.

"Better," Alex says. He laughs roughly, says, "I am tired, though."

"Me, too," Ryan says, and Alex cups Ryan's face in his hands and kisses him again. Ryan wants to ask, a little, why this is suddenly a good idea again, but he can't quite catch his breath in order to do so.

Alex pulls back. "Sleep," he says.

"Yeah," Ryan agrees, and Alex pulls back the covers and waits for Ryan to get in so he can curl around Ryan again, kiss a line up his shoulder to his neck. Ryan is shivering a little, feeling hot everywhere Alex is touching him, and eventually he says, "I'm not, that's not really conducive to sleep."

"Right," Alex says, smiling, and pulls back with a little sigh. He's still watching Ryan, their faces close on the pillow. Then he makes a face. "It's okay, right, like -- after Urie and Valdes, if you don't want me to be too close—"

"I came here in the first place," Ryan says.

"Yes." Alex looks rather pleased about it.

"Which," Ryan says, pressing his leg between Alex's -- Alex's mouth drops open a little, redder than normal, and Ryan has a moment of trying to remember exactly what he was saying -- "isn't exactly something I'd do, probably, if I wanted to build another metaphorical pillow wall or whatever."

"That makes sense," Alex says.

"And also," Ryan says, "you're kind of different to them, I don't know if you've noticed."

"More appropriate for your biography." Alex nods.

"Or," Ryan says, feeling a little stupid and shy, "I just like you more, you know."

"I'm less crazy, also," Alex offers.

"I just thought," Ryan starts, not sure, exactly, how to phrase this. "I don't know."

"Yeah," Alex says, like he understands Ryan's point, which is kind of weird because Ryan didn't really say anything just then. "Bed time, little prince."

"You know," Ryan says suddenly, "probably I can get you a - a hero's welcome, now, at home, because of your valor and bravery in facing down the notorious criminals Urie and Valdes."

"Does that mean a feast in our honor, or what?"

"Possibly," Ryan says. "Possibly a medal or something, too."

"Last time I got a medal was in primary school," Alex says cheerfully. "Pretty sure it was for a fundraiser. Maybe a spelling bee, though, it's hard to say."

"It could have been both," Ryan says. "And your memories have just blurred together."

"Possibly," Alex says, nodding. "That could be it. So maybe this'll be my third medal."

"You're a decorated veteran," Ryan tells him. Ryan really is sleepy, but it's nice just lying here talking. He sort of remembers himself, though, placing a kiss against Alex's chest, just below the center point of his clavicle. "Very brave."

"Not always," Alex says, breath a little short; Ryan's just happy there's enough oxygen that shortness of breath isn't a warning sign.

"No?"

"No." Alex's next breath comes in a hiss through his teeth. "You were saying, about sleep?"

"You were saying," Ryan tells him. "But - right, yes. Okay. Sorry."

"Are you seriously supposed to apologize like that?" Alex says. "You're royalty. You're not above that?"

"Eh," Ryan says. "There's - you know, there are formal apologies and then there are just. Times when maybe."

"You do stupid stuff?" Alex suggests, and Ryan makes a face at him but nods, slightly. "Yeah, okay. Well - hey. C'mon. _Again_."

"Right," Ryan says, curling up next to Alex, and glad that it's _Alex_ , once again. He closes his eyes and _then_ decides something, so he gropes around blindly for a second, making Alex laugh until Ryan finds his hand to hold. "I'll do what I can, though. To make sure that - you don't get executed or arrested or anything."

"Well, gee," Alex says, and Ryan is pretty sure he's going to try to say something clever so he takes his free hand and presses a finger to Alex's lips and Alex obliges by shutting up.

"Sleep," Ryan tells him earnestly, and goes about doing just that.

\---

"So, okay," Z says the next morning. "Where exactly are we going, then?"

"Ah, wherever," Alex says with a shrug.

"Wherever, right." Z crosses her arms, nodding. "That's very specific, captain, thank you."

"Oooh, cold," Alex says, turning to Ryan for a second. "She called me _captain_. Jeez."

"Very harsh," Ryan tells him soothingly. He's hanging back a little ways, not sure how subtle he needs to be during the daytime.

"Let's go somewhere nice," Alex says decisively. "A planet somewhere. With a beach."

"A holiday?" Z says, a little dubiously. "You remember what happened last time we tried that?"

"Ryan promises not to run away with crazy kidnappers this time," Alex says.

"Only the sane ones," Ryan agrees.

Z's pouring over a large digital map. "We could go see Greta and her boys," she says. "She's not too far away from here, and I think they're pretty strict about not letting Urie and Valdes near their airspace." She rolls her eyes. "Not that Urie hasn't tried."

"Okay, let's do that," Alex says. "It'll be cool to see Greta."

"Drop in on her unannounced," Z says, nodding. "Just for a few days."

"Or a week," Ryan says, casually as he can manage it. "You know. There's no hurry."

Alex laughs, shaking his head a little like he's surprised. "I guess there isn't," he says.

\---

Greta is a girl around Z's age, with curly blonde hair and a laugh that is delighted and startled when they knock on her door. She wraps Alex and then Z in a hug, and then the rest of the crew, saying, "When did you guys _get_ here?" She goes still. "Tell me you didn't crash land again."

"Totally normal landing," Alex tells her.

"No one's told me about your ship, though," Greta says.

"We've got a new one," Alex says. "Hey, I want you to meet my friend."

The rest of the crew snickers a little bit. Ryan sticks his hands in his pockets. " _Your_ friend," Z says, sounding a little affronted, and then winks at Ryan.

"Hi," Ryan says.

"Hey!" Greta smiles at him. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Greta Salpeter."

"Ryan," Ryan tells her, and they shake hands.

Greta looks at him, tilts her head to the side, and then laughs, looking kind of sheepish. Alex beams. "What?" he says.

"Nothing," Greta says. "Sorry, it's just you look really familiar."

"I get that a lot," Ryan says, shrugging.

"Hmmn," Greta says. "Anyway, c'mon, guys, you hungry? The boys are out just now -- I think Bob's sleeping somewhere, though -- anyway, there's tea and snacks and stuff, and we'll have dinner in an hour or so?"

"Tea sounds great," Z says, making her way up to link her arm with Greta's. Alex nudges Ryan to get him moving, and then quietly takes Ryan's hand, and Ryan tries not to smile too obviously, even though his chest feels tight and fluttery with happiness.

\---

Greta drops the teapot when she's filling Ryan's cup. " _Oh my God_ ," she says.

Most of the crew cracks up laughing.

"You're _not_ ," Greta says, putting her hand to her throat.

"Sorry?" Ryan blinks at her.

"Oh my God," Greta says, "Alex, he's _not_."

"He isn't?" Alex asks, innocently.

" _Alex_ ," she says.

Alex turns a critical, thoughtful gaze on Ryan. "Hey. Ryan. What aren't you? Not crazy. Not ... normal? Greta, surely you can't be judging my friend here for being a little weird."

" _You're_ weird," Greta says, staring at Ryan still. Ryan is pretty used to having people watching him, honestly, but it still seems weird and he has to try hard not to laugh. He's remaining very dignified.

Ryan says, a bit sadly, that, "I was really looking forward to tea."

"Oh," Greta says. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, are - are you okay?"

"What?" Ryan blinks at her. "I'm fine. Just thirsty."

"Alex," Greta says again, turning to face him with a bit of a glare. "Are you going to bring an entire army down on my house again?"

" _Once_ ," Alex says. "And it wasn't an _entire_ army. Come on. Would I do that to you?"

"Well, yes," Greta says, "since you already did, but. Come on. Tell me he's not. You just happened to find a lookalike somewhere. With the same name."

"I don't look anything like Ryan Seacrest," Ryan says, indignantly. "Fuck that guy, he's a jerk."

Greta breathes a sigh of relief. "He can't be. Never mind." She beams at Ryan. "I thought for sure you were that prince that got kidnapped."

"Oh, well," Ryan says. "Yeah, I mean, that's a pretty accurate assessment. _That prince_ , though? What - what other princes even are there anywhere near here?"

"True," Greta says, then, " _Really?_ "

"There's the one of that really tiny system a couple hundred light years from here," Alex says helpfully. "Prince Jonathan."

"Oh, fuck him," Ryan says. "I'm the prince."

"Oh my god," Greta says.

Alex is grinning delightedly at Ryan. "What, and Jonathan Walker's not?"

"He's small time," Ryan says. "Come on, man, what have I been telling you. I've got _seven_ solar systems to my name, he's got, like, one, and it's a tiny one. It only has six moons in the whole thing."

"Ryan," Alex says, "you're not jealous or anything, are you?"

"I'm just saying." Ryan folds his arms and glares. "Like, he's nice enough, but come on, whatever."

"I like Prince Jonathan," Tennessee puts in. "Didn't he have a band for a while?"

"Cheap gimmick," Ryan scoffs.

"Oh my god," Greta says faintly.

"Hey, Alex," Z says. "Isn't he the one you ran into that time on a planet? And you, like, kept all his clippings pinned to your door?"

" _What_?" Ryan sits up straighter.

"Z," Alex says. "Remember that conversation we had? Discretion is the better part of valour?"

"Didn't you write Princess Alexander Greenwald-Walker all over our maps?" Z says.

"Hey, we swore that was going to be a secret forever," Alex says.

"Alex," Ryan says.

Alex and Z start giggling. Alex gives Z a high-five.

"I hate you all," Ryan says.

"Did you actually meet him?" Annie asks, looking curious. "I don't know this story."

"Me and Z robbed a bank while he was at a press conference a block down once?" Alex offers.

"The bank was showing footage of it," Z says. "He's very handsome."

Ryan folds his arms and glares.

"Have _you_ met him?" Annie asks.

"Yes," Ryan says. "Not that my busy schedule allowed much time for such trivial business—"

"You were busy judging outfit designs," Alex says wisely.

"—but he was pretty boring," Ryan says. Actually, Jon Walker is pretty cool, as royalty goes, and very cool, as high ranking government officials do, and he and Ryan had spent most of the afternoon jamming and getting high, but there's no need for Alex to go all preferential on Ryan. Can't Alex be happy with the prince he's got?

"Wait, I'm sorry," Greta says. "I need you to go back. You're -- you're not _really_ the kidnapped prince, are you?"

"They locked me in a room," Ryan says, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"This is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me," Greta says.

"Alex even threatened me once," Ryan says. "With a gun." He tilts his head to the side, considering. "Then he bought me a stuffed toy, though, so I don't think he meant it."

"I am gentlemanly and generous with my threatening," Alex agrees.

"But." Greta stares at him. "You know they're all going crazy wondering where you are, right?"

"Prince Jonathan got kidnapped, once," Ryan says, smugly and dishonestly, "and no one even noticed."

"What, you're serious?" Z asks, staring at him. "Did he really? I never heard about that."

"My point exactly." Ryan sits back in his chair, smiling to himself. "Whereas - apparently everyone's going crazy wondering about me. Are they, really?"

"Yes," Greta says, laughing a little disbelievingly. "Do you want to watch the news? It's been ridiculous. I mean, there have been other things going on, too, like the situation on Yavin IV, but also a lot of talk of - of who'll take over if you aren't found, that sort of thing."

"Right," Ryan nods. "Mostly me." He pauses for a moment. "What's happening on Yavin? Their election was coming up, and I remember, we had a lot of interest in that one. Who got voted in?"

"No one," Greta says. "That's the thing."

"Huh." Ryan frowns. He hasn't been giving much thought to politics, lately, which has been nice, but it's an interesting thought exercise trying to put together this latest bit of information with what he last heard nearly three weeks ago. He feels vindicated still being _able_ to think that way, put the pieces together, because much as he gets bored with his studies and with politics, he isn't that terrible at any of it when he pays attention. It's just paying attention he has trouble with. "Well - right, anyway, not much I can do about that. It would have been dad's business to deal with anyway."

"You call the king _dad_ ," Greta says, wonderingly.

Ryan blinks at her. "Yes?"

"I hear they're related," Alex says in a loud stage whisper. "Just a rumor, though, very hush-hush."

"Oh, shut up," Greta laughs.

Tennessee says, "Really, though, there's been a lot on the news. Especially after Urie and Valdes got a hold of you."

"The same pictures, over and over and _over_ ," Z says, sounding frustrated. "They don't have anything better to do besides try to analyze your expression and whatever."

"And now that you're missing again," Greta says. "It's kind of annoying, like there's nothing else going on. I - not that you're not important or anything, your highness. It's just kind of."

"It would be, wouldn't it," Ryan says with a sigh.

"I didn't even finish that sentence!"

"I know," Ryan says. "Still." He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his knuckles. "I'm all right, is the point."

"Still alive," Z says.

"At some point I should figure out how to - how to handle my return, right, how to play it. The media's going to have their own ideas, but the palace handles spin pretty well."

"As long as I'm a hero," Alex says. "And - a gentleman."

"Of course," Ryan nods. "Very gentlemanly. You're exclusively gentlemanly all the time."

Z barely stifles a laugh. "He is _not_."

"Need I remind you, once again," Ryan says, primly, "That he bought me a stuffed animal. I can think of no nobler gesture. And anyway, I - I don't really want to think about politics just now."

"Sorry," Greta says. "It's just weird. Alex, how do you even find all this trouble?"

" _All_ this trouble," Tennessee says with a world-weary sigh. "All the time. This wasn't supposed to be trouble, then we had a run-in with Urie and Valdes."

"Not so much a run-in, though," Z says. "As a very silly situation that eventually got fixed up."

"Look, okay," Alex says. "We got a new ship, so it doesn't matter how broke we are anymore."

"True," Z admits.

""How do you have a new ship, anyway?" Greta asks, sounding somewhat wary despite her curiosity.

"Oh, I got it for them," Ryan says.

"Even though they kidnapped you and threatened you," Greta says.

"Oh, man," Annie says, laughing delightedly. "It's great, okay, so -"

\---

The rest of the afternoon passes by spent mostly on catching up between the crew and Greta and her friends. Alex participates in that for a while, but after a while notices Ryan sits awkwardly to one side, balanced on the armrest of a big cozy chair that Greta's friend Darren is currently napping in. Ryan only participates when the conversation slows and someone decides to ask him something ridiculous about life in the palace, or what it was like having to put up with Urie and Valdes for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Alex steps aside and taps him on the shoulder. "Hey, you."

"Hey." Ryan smiles up at him gratefully.

"You wanna hit the beach or something?"

"Ooh," Ryan says, perking up at the idea. It's summertime on this part of the planet, and there are fans running inside and a nice breeze coming through the open windows. Ryan likes the idea of exploring, since catching up isn't doing much for him. "Are there deadly sea creatures?"

"Probably," Alex says.

"Awesome."

"Come on, then," Alex says, and Ryan stands up and looks around awkwardly to see if they're meant to take their leave properly or something, or at least acknowledge Greta as hostess, but no one is paying them much attention and Alex just tugs on Ryan's elbow and leads him out.

Greta's house is nearly on the edge of the beach, and they stop at the dunes to sit down and take their shoes and socks off and roll their pants up. It's sunny and the sky is blue and Ryan can see people playing on the edge of the sea, but further away and in the opposite direction they head in.

"There's rock pools and things along here," Alex tells Ryan, and Ryan tries to suppress his grin, because Alex is practically skipping. "They've got the weirdest creatures on this planet. Like, animal and bird-wise, they're pretty tame? Nothing particularly amazing, but holy shit, the weird fucking crabs and stuff they've got."

"Amazing," Ryan says.

"You're laughing at me," Alex says, shaking a finger in Ryan's face, "but it totally is, I'll prove it to you."

"Okay," Ryan says, and catches Alex's hand. "Don't wave your finger in my face, jerk."

"You're the jerk," Alex says comfortably, and falls into step with Ryan.

The rock pools are tiny and bright with coral and plants and strange, scuttling things on the surface. Ryan and Alex get down on their hands and knees to peer into them, and Alex points things out and whispers about them in Ryan's ear, even though there's no real need to be that quiet. Ryan leans into it anyway, resting his hand on Alex's knee so he can stay upright.

"I was going to be a marine biologist," Alex tells Ryan, eyes bright.

"No," Ryan says.

"What?" Alex blinks at him.

"You weren't," Ryan says. "That's a lie."

Alex laughs. "I was," he insists. "Really. That's how I know about them. I promise I'm not -- telling you falsehoods, I would never do that. I researched the hell out of it."

"Out of what," Ryan says, "the sea?"

"Yes!" Alex grins at him.

"Anyway," Ryan says. "You weren't going to become a marine biologist, because you were always going to be a space pirate."

"Oh," Alex says. "Right, yes, I mean, obviously. I just forgot. Sorry."

"As you should be," Ryan says. "Don't destroy my youthful dreams like that."

"I won't do it again," Alex says. "Promise."

"Good." Ryan leans in and steals a kiss, and then he goes back to peering in a very interested way down at the rock pool. It's a little harder to concentrate now; he can feel his cheeks heating.

"Hey," Alex says, amused.

"You could have been a sea pirate, I suppose," Ryan admits after a moment. "But that wouldn't - have been your true and final destiny. You would have been subverting fate."

"That's what I do," Alex says.

Ryan looks back up at him, blinking. "What? Piracy on the high seas? You probably don't even know what a boat is."

Alex starts laughing. And keeps laughing.

Ryan frowns, nudging him in the side - "Hey, stop that," but it doesn't make much difference.

"I don't - right," Alex manages, catching his breath. "I've never even heard of a boat. Obviously. I somehow missed, you know. Learning about basic vehicles."

"I've got a boat," Ryan says. "I'll have to, you can come for a ride some day."

Alex waggles his eyebrows, smiling ridiculously for a moment before his expression sobers. He just watches Ryan, though.

Ryan turns around, looking to see if there's something else that's caught Alex's eye. Presumably not the birds wheeling overhead, since they've been there all along, and there's really nothing new in that direction at all but a bit of sand and the water. That leaves Ryan himself as the target of Alex's gaze.

Ryan looks back at him for a moment, feeling strangely vulnerable. "Hm?"

"Just thinking too much, don't worry."

"Well," Ryan says. "That _is_ a cause for concern, I mean - we wouldn't want your brain overheating or anything. Too much effort and it might scramble like an egg."

"And me not even eating eggs." Alex shakes his head. "I'll try. I wouldn't want you to worry your pretty little head."

"Thanks for that," Ryan says. "I won't forget it."

He flops back on the sand, considering dangling his feet in the water for a moment before he decides the risk of some small thing biting him isn't worth it and wriggles his toes in the sand instead, squeezing his eyes shut to protect himself from the glare of the sun. He wonders if there are sunglasses somewhere that he can steal. Alex is singing under his breath and every now and then Ryan hears little splashes of water under the sound of the waves, so he supposes Alex is still busy poking around in the rock pool.

He's not quite prepared for Alex to suddenly sprawl out on top of him. "Ooof," Ryan says, and Alex laughs and presses his face against Ryan's neck, then shifting just a little so he can touch his mouth to the underside of Ryan's jaw.

"Hi," Alex says.

"Sup," Ryan says, and Alex starts laughing. "What?"

"I don't think you can get away with saying that."

"I can get away with saying anything." Ryan wishes he could glare at Alex, but the sun's still in his eyes, and Alex still has his head tucked under Ryan's chin anyway, so. It seems unlikely at this point. "The moment I say it, it becomes cool."

"Is that right?"

"Okay, listen," Ryan says, "when I was ten, me and Spencer went through a skateboarding phase, right, and then everyone thought skateboarding was _so cool_. And they all started wearing the same cool skateboarding clothes, and when I fell off one time and ripped a hole in my pants, they all ripped matching holes."

"Okay, but that's not cool," Alex says. "That's just really creepy."

"I bet you were wearing skateboarding clothes too," Ryan says. "You just won't admit it."

"I was seventeen," Alex says. "I was above skateboarding pants."

"Yeah? What were you wearing then?"

Alex is quiet for a moment. "Vests, mostly," he says finally.

"I like vests," Ryan says.

"You wouldn't have liked these."

Ryan laughs, and the shadows of the afternoon shift a little. Ryan opens his eyes. "Sun's setting," he says.

"We should go back for dinner in a while," Alex says.

"In a while," Ryan agrees. Alex lifts his head, and Ryan waits, because he doesn't want to seem clingy or whatever, and he's not sure exactly what's going on, anyway. Alex folds his arms on Ryan's chest and rests his chin on top of them, watching Ryan. Ryan blinks at him. "You know you're kind of heavy, right?"

"Lies," Alex says.

"I'm a paragon of virtue and honesty," Ryan says.

Alex grins down at him. The opportunity presents itself and Ryan takes it, leaning up to kiss Alex. He wraps a hand around Alex's neck, pulling him down close. Alex is still smiling, nearly laughs into it.

Ryan feels really happy, right now, and very focused on the present moment, on how Alex feels this close to him. Ryan kind of wishes this weren't doomed to be a fling, but figures he can think of ways to draw out -- whatever it is, if it even counts as a fling -- as long as he can. This is already excuse enough, but maybe, maybe it can last a little longer.

Eventually, Alex pulls back, and Ryan tries to follow, but Alex says, "Dinner'll get cold."

"Oh, right," Ryan says, and has to wait for Alex to get up before he can do so himself. Ryan concerns himself, on the walk back -- hand-in-hand again, which has Ryan smiling wide -- by wondering what the sleeping arrangements are going to be like. Greta probably doesn't have nine spare rooms.

Ryan wonders if he should point out that he and Alex can share, but wonders if maybe that's too obvious and too stupid, if maybe they should try to be subtle.

Then again, Ryan mostly trusts everyone not to make some huge dramatic story out of him and Alex. Ryan is surprised to realize he _doesn't_ really want whatever-this-is to be in the inevitable biopic. He doesn't really know what it is in the first place, and doesn't like, suddenly, the idea of other people trying to figure it out for him after the fact.

Dinner is fresh vegetables, cooked just so, with breads and dips and a bowl of boiled eggs. It's strange and delicious, and not the kind of food Ryan's used to, but the salty sea air and all the adventure of the past few days have combined to make him ravenously hungry. He eats lots, and so does everyone else around the long wooden table, but they never seem to run out of food. Greta's set up candlesticks, too, which Ryan hasn't seen outside of some of the palace's archive rooms before, and she laughs before she lights them, ducking her head and smiling.

"Just because it's a special occasion," she says, and Z raises a glass of champagne in toast.

Conversation ebbs and flows and Ryan finds himself drawn in to a discussion with Chris, one of the new guys sitting to his left, about politics. It makes him wary at first, but it's easy and fun and Chris is intelligent without being antagonistic. Ryan supposes it's good to know that he hasn't forgotten everything he knows about the world, or his world, at least. He's been away from home for a month now, he thinks. It seems a lot longer.

"Oh, yeah, sleeping arrangements," Greta says, and Ryan turns his attention back to her. "So, I mean, basically we have two spare rooms, and a couple of mattresses we can drag out, put them in Bob's office and the music room and stuff. And there's two couches. Oh, and the basement has a sofa bed set up, I'm pretty sure."

"How big is this house?" Ryan asks Chris in an undertone, and Chris laughs.

"Greta and Bob built it themselves, mostly," he says. "While they were still in high school. As we all came along they just kept adding rooms."

"Anyway," Greta says, and smiles. "You'll all have to squeeze in together."

"We can manage that," Z says, and Ryan nods even though his heart's sinking a little. People crammed into rooms doesn't really sound ideal, but Ryan supposes it's not really polite to try and mess around with Alex while there are so many people around, anyway.

"And the summerhouse," Bob says.

"Right, yeah," Greta says. "That's got two beds, I think? It gets a little chilly at night, but if you're willing to risk it we'll send you out with heaters."

Alex presses his foot against Ryan's under the table. "I don't get cold easily," Ryan says.

Z looks quietly amused, but Greta just nods. "Sure, it's all yours."

"Oh, no, I don't need a place to myself," Ryan says. "I mean. I'm not that important. Technically Alex is the captain."

"True," Alex says. "I guess I'd better have the summer house, too."

\---

The summerhouse is tucked away to the side of the house, a good five minute walk down the garden path, and Ryan and Alex retire for bed fairly early in the evening. Ryan leans a little against Alex's shoulder, and Alex keeps his arm around Ryan's shoulders. Ryan's pretty sure that everyone knew or guessed what they were up to, or the crew at least, but no one really said anything about it, and it feels a little strange to Ryan, that people can just not care, that things can not be a big deal.

It's cold when they push open the doors, and Alex sets about setting up the little heater Greta gave them. There's one double bed and a single, and Ryan wanders around the room, running his hand over the wood panelling. It feels strange, too, to be suddenly surrounded by something other than metal; stone and brick and wood again, off the spaceship. Ryan's glad they've never gone out of fashion, despite an attempt when he was eleven to start a trend with a new fleximetal material in building. Nobody bought it; Ryan thinks the company went out of business.

He takes off his shoes and trousers and goes to stand at the wide windows. There are curtains to draw across, but Ryan ignores them; he can see the sea from here, the moon hanging round and almost orange above it, the line of silver across the water. He unbuttons his shirt absently but gets distracted from taking it off, standing there and staring. He's seen a lot of beautiful things, visited a lot of spectacular scenery, but this is still beautiful, and he hasn't been taken here expressly to say so. It feels different.

Alex curves around his back, warm and unexpected, and Ryan leans back into him with a sigh.

"It's nice, huh?" Alex says.

"Pretty cool." Ryan nods, dropping his head back against Alex's shoulder. Alex turns his face, nuzzles at the side of Ryan's face, and Ryan closes his eyes and wonders if this is going to stop being stupidly good any time soon, wonders if he's going to stop wanting to beam every time Alex touches him. He hopes not.

Alex runs his hands up Ryan's sides, and he curls his fingers around Ryan's shirt, pulls it off him gently, encouraging Ryan to roll his shoulders back. Ryan turns around and Alex is grinning at him, looking almost smug.

"What?" Ryan says.

"Nothing," Alex says. When Ryan gives him a curious look, he laughs and shakes his head, says, "Really, it's not -- I'm just impressed at how easily you snagged this room."

"It's my royal privilege," Ryan says. It's dark in here, but Ryan's eyes are adjusting. He tilts his head to the side. "Are you going to take your shirt off?"

Alex laughs. "Is that also your royal privilege?"

"Something like that," Ryan says, and helps Alex out. He puts his arms around Alex's neck and says, considering, "You're taller than me."

"They must not make princes like they used to," Alex says, amused.

"Hey. My grandfather was shorter than me. Great-grandfather, too." Ryan lifts his chin, trying to look defiant. The attempt is useless because of his inability to keep from smiling.

"Well, that's - good?" Alex says, laughing. "I don't really want to think about your grandparents, but you know."

"My grandfather was a very capable ruler." Somewhere along the way, Ryan's gotten a lot worse at giving statements like that the proper gravitas. Possibly it's just because of Alex, though. "For _example—"_

"Oh my god." Alex beams, leaning in to kiss Ryan quickly, following it up with another when it seems like Ryan might try to say something else. "No history lessons."

"Sorry," Ryan says, but doesn't mean it, not especially. He likes watching Alex, paying close attention to his expression. Alex closes his eyes and Ryan is fascinated by the curve of his eyelashes, even.

"What," Alex says, soft and close. "Hey, now, what's funny?"

"Your face," Ryan tells him seriously.

"Oh, well. In that case," Alex says.

Ryan brushes some of Alex's hair aside, tucking it behind his ear. He stands there a moment longer, feeling pleased and thoughtful before kissing Alex's neck. He lets his hands drop to Alex's sides, exploring the hem of his shirt. The fabric's soft and old, with little holes here and there. Ryan is pretty sure Alex could buy plenty of new clothes if he wanted, figures it's intentional that he keeps wearing this one. It _is_ really soft, and must be comfortable.

Ryan resolves to steal it tomorrow morning before Alex can get up and put it back on. He's pretty sure it'll fit just fine anyway.

"Hey, here." Alex pulls him back toward the bed, away from the window. "I mean, much as I love to entertain."

Ryan laughs and pushes him down.

\---

Most of the week is spent exploring, or else playing on the beach. Annie makes a mean sand castle, Ryan discovers one afternoon.

"How do you keep the turrets from collapsing?" he asks, leaning down close to stare at the architectural detail.

"Trade secret," Annie tells him. "It's, you know. A matter of national security, so I'm afraid I can't tell you even though you're royalty."

Ryan laughs. "Fine, fine. Keep your mysteries."

She smiles at him. "I will."

Ryan has been attempting to build his own sandcastle with Darren and Z, but they're nowhere near as successful in their creation. Z's done a great job on the moat, though, and even found a bit of driftwood for a drawbridge. Ryan goes back over to them and sits back down, trying to shore up a wall that's collapsing. "She won't give up state secrets that easily," Ryan tells them.

"Hmm," Darren says.

"I have ways to make her talk," Z says, cheerful and sing-song. "We'll get her next time."

Ryan's head snaps up. "Next time? We should have a contest."

"What would the prize be?" Darren asks. "And who'd be judge, anyway?"

Z thinks for a moment before answering, "Greta and Bob, since it's their beach."

"The beach is public, technically," Ryan says. "There's some weird zoning laws in this area regarding what can be held as public or private property."

"Thanks," Z says. "For clarifying, that was helpful."

Ryan just shrugs. "Would it be - would we have teams, or what?"

"Maybe," Z says. "We have enough people that it might be easier. Faster going, too, as long as certain princes and certain ship captains don't decide to work together."

"What, no, they should be a team," Darren says. "That way they wouldn't get anything done."

"Well, they might find an interesting new species of crab or something," Z says. "Don't think it would win them any contests, though."

"Hey," Ryan says, indignant.

\---

Greta and Bob are mostly self-sufficient in the summer, with their vegetable patch and the actual _cow_ (Ryan doesn't realize they have a cow until he stumbles on it by accident, and promptly gets trapped in its field. It chases him around for a while and Ryan's mildly terrified until he looks up and notices Alex and Greta killing themselves laughing just beyond the fence, which means that they're assholes but also that the cow probably isn't going to kill him) and all the stores they have. There isn't much need to go into town, but one day they get a craving for ice cream, and apparently Greta can make ice cream but can't be bothered just then, so Z and Ryan and Alex and Tennessee set out on an expedition.

It's a half hour walk into town, even though Greta offered them the use of her bikes. It's sunny but not too hot, and the walk is nice, anyway, a little path with hedges on either side and the fields beyond. Z has procured a parasol from somewhere, and she skips ahead a little, twirling it above her and occasionally looking back to grin at them.

"How big is the town?" Ryan asks. He can't remember anyone pointing it out as they flew over for landing.

"Pretty small," Tennessee says. "I think only a couple of hundred people live in it, and then another fifty or so scattered out around it, like Greta and Bob."

"The nearest city is about four hours by train," Alex says. "So they have the train station, but, you know. It's tiny as towns go."

"But they have ice cream," Tennessee says. "Really, really good ice cream."

"Clearly the important factor," Ryan says, and Tennessee laughs.

"Exactly," she says. "I'm so glad you understand."

"I do my best to be understanding," Ryan says, "even in complex situations such as these."

"There you go," Tennessee says. Up ahead, Z is singing, something that Ryan doesn't recognise, but her voice is warm and sweet and Ryan thinks that he could stay here for a long time, here with these people. He thinks it's even a possible thing, secretly. Greta's house is isolated enough that there's not much risk of anyone noticing him properly as more than an occasional visit to town, and the rest of the crew seem pretty happy to have a holiday. He knows he has to go back eventually, but he's happy enough putting it off for now.

Alex tilts his head, giving him a look, a little curious, and Ryan smiles at him.

\---

It's an actual ice cream parlour that they go into, like something out of an old picture book. Most of the people in there are buying cones, but Z says that they sell tubs from out the back, too, so Ryan goes over to peer at the flavours.

"I want honeycomb," he says, eventually.

"Good idea," Z says. "Honeycomb, and -- vanilla, and. We need a fruit."

"Raspberry," Alex says, coming and leaning against Ryan's back.

"Hmm," Z says critically.

"Mango," Tennessee suggests, and Z nods decisively.

"Oh, you suck," Alex says. "I'm going to have a cone of raspberry, fuck you."

"That'll show me," Z agrees. "Get me one, too, I want pistachio."

"Hazelnut," Tennessee says.

Alex looks at Ryan.

"Chocolate chip cookie dough," Ryan says. "Please."

"You disgust me," Alex tells him, and orders it first.

Ryan takes his cone and slides away from the press of people at the counter. There aren't that many, but it's a small shop, and clearly popular. Ryan licks his ice cream and hums, pleased. He can see why.

There's a TV screen up in the top corner of one of the walls, and it buzzes alight, suddenly. Ryan turns at the sound of words, "And now, in breaking news from the capital—" and goes still. He half expects a picture of himself, but it's not, it's his dad.

"King George II passed away this morning at approximately 4am, reports from the palace say," the newsreader is saying, her face serious. "The unexpected tragedy comes on top of his son, and heir to the throne, Prince Ryan's disappearance, alleged at this point to be a kidnapping, possibly murder."

Someone is saying his name. Ryan doesn't turn away from the screen.

"As of yet, there is no information on the cause of the monarch's death," the newsreader says. "Already, a vigil has been set up at the palace gates, and there are rumors of doubled efforts to track down the now Prince Regent. The last heard of him was when a series of leaked photos, connected to notorious underworld leaders Shane Valdes and Brendon Urie, made its way to the capital—"

"Here," Ryan says to some little kid waiting in line, and gives the kid his ice cream cone. He feels sort of sick and not especially inclined to eat ice cream right now. He's pretty sure he's going to get recognized if he stays here or whatever, so he leaves, not really bothering to tell the others. They're smart people; they can figure it out for themselves that he's going back.

He isn't actually sure, just yet, if he's headed for the ship or for Greta's, but he has a while to decide. Then again, possibly he should stay in town, see about a train to the city. He imagines the city will have a full port and they can send word to the capital and allow for a proper escort back to the palace.

His head's already buzzing with what he's going to have to do with the press, not relishing having to deal with that and all the matters of succession and inheritance involved in the death of a king. At least he isn't king yet, possibly won't ever be if his aunt doesn't have another child. Ryan wonders if they'll try again; technically he has a cousin, but the kid's been formally withdrawn or whatever for years now because of a whole slew of physical and mental issues. There were a lot of informal agreements, and then more formal ones a few years back when Ryan's father first ended up in the hospital.

Ryan kind of wishes, right now, that his cousin were sound of body and mind. It'd make dealing with the fact that his dad just died that little bit easier. The funeral won't be for a few days yet, probably. Ryan can't really remember how that works right now.

He stops, still debating - city or Greta's. There's a tentative touch at his elbow, Alex saying, "Ryan?"

Ryan closes his eyes, shoulders drooping. He gives himself that one moment, indulges in that slightest of touches, then straightens again. "Can we be ready to leave by this evening?"

"Yeah," Alex says, and looks to Z, who nods. "We'll want to pack, but I guess that's not a huge deal."

"Not especially," Ryan says, and turns, pulling at the fabric of Alex's shirt for a second to examine it. "Do you think you can borrow anything newer? Z, Tennessee, you - you all, I know you have good clothes. Alex, you can clean up okay, right?"

"Yes?" Alex looks bemused, like he's halfway to saying something clever but decides against it. He seems very uncertain of his place right now, which Ryan supposes is fair enough.

"We'll get as much sorted on the flight as we can," Ryan says, turning again. "We need to - ah, there aren't even any cabs in a town this size, huh. Wow. Okay. Well."

"We could probably commandeer somebody's car," Z offers. "State business, right?"

"No, that's not - that wouldn't fit the narrative." Ryan shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes for a second. "We'll walk."


	2. Chapter 2

They walk.

Greta greets them cheerfully, asks if they remembered to bring any back for her and then stops when she notices the looks on everyone's faces.

"What's wrong?" she asks, and Ryan doesn't really feel like talking about it, not right now when he doesn't have to, so he goes to get together the very few things he's left out at the summer house. It isn't like he has a lot with him right now, has mostly been in and out of a few outfits. At least Greta's got a good washer and dryer.

Ryan laughs a little, realizing that possibly he'll want to change into something nicer before arrival. A shirt with fewer holes in it, for one. Something of his own.

He gets back inside and everyone is sitting very still in the living room, in a shell-shocked sort of silence, and Ryan wonders if it's a reaction to him or because their king just died or what. He doesn't have time for it, anyway; he looks at Alex and says, "Is everyone ready to go, then?" and Alex sort of startles and nearly everyone gets up and starts hurrying off to various places.

Ryan says, "Bob, hey. Do any of you guys have suits?"

"Yeah," Bob says, a little nervously. "We all do. I think Darren is closest your height, if you wanted to borrow."

"Thanks," Ryan says. "That'd be great. I'll send it back, or pay you back, or something."

"It's -- sure, don't worry about it," Bob says. "Look, I'm. I'm really sorry."

"Thank you," Ryan says, and smiles kindly, because he supposes he'd better get used to that.

\---

They board the ship in a bit of a rush, and Ryan doesn't even really get a chance to say goodbye properly, which is a shame. Z goes straight up to the bridge, and Ryan goes to try his borrowed suit on. It's not that bad; not the quality he's used to, and Darren's a little taller than him, but Ryan's sure that someone on board will have some pins that he can put the ankles up with. They might even have a sewing kit; Ryan's not bad with a needle.

He turns around and Alex is standing in the doorway. Ryan raises his eyebrows, and Alex says, "That looks good."

"It'll do," Ryan says, because Alex probably doesn't know or care about the intricacies of different types of suits, and what people expect their prince to be dressed in.

"Z's flying as fast as we can manage it," Alex says. "We should be there in twelve hours or so."

"Okay," Ryan says. "Make sure she gets some rest."

Alex blinks, looking a little confused. "All right."

"I need to borrow a comm device," Ryan says. "With capacity for a longer connection."

"Sure," Alex says, "c'mon," and he puts his hand on the small of Ryan's back, guiding him down through the corridors and into a room with monitors all around. Jeff looks up at them, that same unsure, startled look on his face that Ryan keeps getting.

"Hey, Jeff," Ryan says. "Could I have the room for a little while?"

"Of course," Jeff says. "You know how to work everything?"

"Well enough," Ryan says. "Thanks."

"Hey," Alex says. He touches Ryan's shoulder, the back of his neck, rubbing briefly for a moment. Ryan wants to tilt back into it but he doesn't have time right now.

"I've got to call Spencer," Ryan says.

"Right," Alex says. "Okay, well." He nods towards the door. "If you need me."

 

"Thanks," Ryan says, and starts hooking up the connection, not really paying much attention to the sound of the door closing.

Spencer looks wary and also exhausted when his face appears on the screen, and then his eyes widen and his mouth drops open and he says, "Thank fucking god."

"Hi," Ryan says. "I'm on my way."

\---

About an hour and a half later, Ryan goes and finds Alex again, and says, "I need to talk to the crew."

Alex nods a little, looking slightly nervous, and then he just presses an intercom button in the corner and says, "Hey, everyone, kitchen," and Ryan feels a little silly for not thinking of that himself. But maybe it would be obnoxious coming from him, and he just hasn't realized it. There's a lot to think about.

When everyone's gathered, Ryan says, "So, okay, it's going to be a little bit crazy. We need to touch down on the royal landing strip -- I'll give you the coordinates and the security clearance, Z -- and there's going to be media around. They won't be allowed to approach, but it's important that they're there."

"Why?" Darren looks baffled.

"So they can see me," Ryan says.

The room looks sort of uncertain. Z says, "So they know you're healthy, and, and capable of governing a country, right?"

"Right," Ryan says. "Anyway. All of you need to come with me, because if one of you doesn't show up then but does later it's going to be questioned. Everything gets looked at a hundred times. You need to be dressed in your best clothes. There's going to be lots of photographers and video crews. Don't look at them. Don't respond to questions. Walk behind me, walk quickly, don't acknowledge the crowd."

"The crowd?"

"Spencer's going to release the details of my return," Ryan says. "It's not the kind of thing that can be hushed up right now, people need some sense of security and hope. Spencer will meet us out there, and some military guard, but we head straight into the palace, and that's all you guys need to worry about for now."

"What happens to you?" Alex asks.

"I go and meet the royal advisers," Ryan says. "Give them the story of my return. Sort of. Spencer and I are still working on that, so it's really important that you guys don't say _anything_ about how you met me or found me or anything to anyone until Spencer or I talk to you about it. Don't listen to anyone else. We think we're going to play it that you guys picked me up off Urie and Valdes' station, that you did a raid and rescued me, and I was ill, which is why we didn't go back straight away, but we'll see. The rest of your background will depend on how much info the state's got on you."

"We've managed to stay under the radar most of the time," Z says.

"Maybe you have." Ryan breathes in. "So you're going to have to stay for at least two weeks. The funeral's two days after we get back, and we need a space before we start celebrating you guys as heroes."

"Do we have to do that part?" Sam asks, looking faintly uncomfortable.

"If we don't want you to look insanely suspicious, yeah," Ryan says. "Sorry. I promise you'll be looked after at the palace, though."

"Anyway," Alex says, "we'll, we'll stay. For as long as you need us."

Ryan manages a nod, turning away.

\---

Ryan thinks a few things through, has another brief call with Spencer, and then goes to sleep. He doesn't especially want to, but it's about night time back at the capital, and it'll be about morning when they land, and getting back on his own planet's schedule seems like a decent idea.

That, and he's tired.

He wanders the ship a little aimlessly before going to bed, looking things over. It looks new and good and worthy enough, more so than Alex's old one, at least. He supposes that's a plus. The ship runs quietly so Ryan mostly listens to the echoes of his footsteps down the corridors and through the nearly empty cargo bay.

Darren is down in the engine room. He isn't actually doing anything, but Ryan talks to him for a bit anyway, eventually asks, "There's nothing that I shouldn't know about in your cargo right now, is there?"

Darren laughs a little but sobers quickly. "No, should be good. Just food and stuff; we got everything else done."

"Okay," Ryan nods. "Good. I'm going to go to bed now."

"Night, man," Darren says. "I mean - do we have to call you Your Highness again?"

Ryan presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and takes a long, deep breath in and out. "When we land. Not - not before. You don't have to. Please."

"Okay," Darren nods. He hesitates for a moment and gives Ryan a quick, friendly hug, patting him on the back. "Get some rest, Ryan."

"Thanks."

After that, he heads back up to the main level, and doesn't realize he's looking for Alex until he finds him. Alex is reading a book on noble etiquette, and Ryan wishes he had more time or attention to be charmed. Instead, he just leans over Alex's shoulder and rests his cheek against the top of Alex's head and doesn't say anything.

"Hey," Alex says, softly.

"I'm going to go to bed," Ryan says. "For six hours, then I have to get up again to finish pinning my suit. I might - hem it, if I have time."

"We can get someone to do that for you," Alex says. "Jeff or Tennessee, maybe."

"Can either of them sew a straight line?"

"Yup," Alex says. "Which is why I didn't say I would do it."

Ryan attempts a laugh but doesn't quite get it. He feels more tired than he rightly should.

"Hey," Alex says, touching one of Ryan's hands briefly as warning he's getting up. Ryan stops leaning on him. "Sleep, huh?"

"Sleep," Ryan agrees, and lets Alex lead him back to the captain's quarters and tuck him into bed. Alex leaves soon after, probably has things to take care of, but Ryan is okay with that. It doesn't particularly matter, he supposes. He is alive and about to sleep on clean sheets.

It's nice, though, because strange as things are for Ryan right now, much as he wishes he were getting uninterrupted rest - two hours later when he wakes up to Alex sneaking into bed beside him, Ryan feels as close to all right as he's probably going to get for the next long while.

"Maybe you could be knighted," Ryan says sleepily. "Eventually."

"No thanks," Alex laughs.

"Knights are jerks, anyway," Ryan says, and shuts his eyes again and drifts off back to sleep before Alex can say anything more.

It doesn't feel like that much later when the alarm Ryan set on a borrowed watch goes off. He switches it off before it can wake Alex, and lies there for a little while, trying to collect his thoughts. Alex got someone to fix the hems on his suit, so that's maybe half an hour extra time, but Ryan doesn't want to risk going back to sleep again. He takes long enough to wake up as it is. Instead, he lies quietly listening to Alex's breathing. Alex has one leg slung over Ryan's hip and his breath is stirring the hair on the nape of Ryan's neck, and he's holding onto Ryan's hand. Ryan can feel something building in his chest, throat tight, but he concentrates on counting his breaths for a little while and that settles him enough to think about getting up, and how best to manoeuvre it so he doesn't wake Alex.

As it is, Alex stirs without Ryan doing anything. Ryan rolls over to watch him, and Alex blinks sleepily at him, says, "Is it, are we landing?"

"Not for a while," Ryan says. "Go back to sleep." He sits up, pulling his hand free of Alex's.

"No," Alex says, yawning widely. "No, I can get up--"

"It's fine," Ryan says. He bends down and kisses Alex, soft as he can, and Alex drops back against the pillows, sighing and trying to pull Ryan down to him. Ryan kisses him again, short as he can make it, and then he gets out of bed and goes to find a shower, shutting the door carefully behind him.

\---

When Z lands the ship, they gather down at the dock ready to walk out. Ryan walks along in front of them, adjusting Darren's tie and Alex's collar. They're dressed in a mismatch of things; Alex has his long coat on and no tie, but he has a nice shirt and suspenders and looks the part of a somewhat roguish captain, so Ryan supposes it will have to do. The girls are dressed impeccably. Ryan stares at them. "Are you guys matching?"

Tennessee winks.

"Okay," Ryan says. He draws in a breath. "Don't get freaked out. Just remember what I said. It's going to be loud."

"Ryan," Alex starts.

The comm device buzzes in Ryan's hand. He looks down at it. "That's Spencer, time to go." He takes a step towards Alex. "What's up?"

Alex hesitates, then shakes his head. "Don't worry about it," he says, and Ryan nods and turns. Z activates the doors.

There are cameras flashing right away, but Ryan sets the pace and the crew keeps up with him, flanking him and spreading out behind him. Spencer's waiting on the tarmac, and he gives Ryan a brief smile and falls into step beside him. Their wrists bump for a moment, and Ryan resists the urge to turn and grab Spencer in a hug straight away.

There are photographers lined up behind the military guys standing stiff-backed and straight-faced on either side, bringing their hands up in salute as Ryan walks past and nods to them. Beyond the fences, there are crowds of people, holding signs that say _Welcome Back Prince Ryan_ and _We Missed You_. He thinks he sees some vague attempts at condolences, too, but he doesn't pay attention to that now, walks to the long line of cars waiting for them and then turns, waving at the crowd and attempting a smile. It doesn't work very well, but he doesn't think that matters just now. They're going to want him noble and suffering, anyway.

Spencer nods towards one car, and Ryan tries to make eye contact with Alex, but he's already getting into another car with Z and Annie. Ryan follows Spencer into the car instead. The driver shuts the door, and Spencer wraps him in a hug.

Ryan clings onto him, pressing his face against Spencer's shoulder. "Fuck," Spencer says, smoothing his hand over the back of Ryan's head. "Fuck, fuck. You're all right?"

He's already asked Ryan all of these sorts of things over the phone, but Ryan answers anyway. "Fine," he says. "I mean."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "Fuck, you scared me."

"Sorry," Ryan says. He'll be guilty about it later, he thinks, how knowing that Spencer would want him to come home was a good enough excuse not to check in, but for now his head is too full up with everything else.

"It's okay," Spencer says. He breathes out. "So there's stuff to do."

"Yeah."

"They're going to want a press conference as soon as possible," Spencer says. "We can give you a day, but that's stretching it, even with your dad."

"I know," Ryan says. "Have you been looking into their files?"

Spencer pulls out a dossier from his briefcase. "The whole crew have been linked to crimes of suspected smuggling," he says. "Monroe has a rap of forgery -- she got away with it, because she was a minor and it was her first offense, but there was a public court case. Greenwald and Berg have been pulled up on petty theft a couple of times, but no one ever made the charges stick."

Ryan nods. "How much of it can we ignore?"

"It's difficult," Spencer says, "but most of this stuff is old. We can spin it that they reformed -- even that some of them were falsely accused -- we can dismiss the smuggling charges as rumors, if they come up. Are you going with Urie and Valdes as kidnappers?"

"I think so," Ryan says, and Spencer nods. "I'm going to say they got people to pick me up, because their records will show they weren't here when I disappeared. I'll say I don't know who the mercenaries were, that I was locked in a room and they were masked."

"Will Greenwald's ship's records show that it wasn't here when you were picked up?" Spencer asks, gaze sharp.

"That ship's will," Ryan says. "But that reminds me, I need you to sort out something with a space station crew near Armade II. They're going to think I commandeered that ship. If we mess with their time records, that could work, or, you know." He shrugs. "Do your thing."

Spencer nods. "Anyone else?"

"Don't think so," Ryan says. "Urie and Valdes are going to deny it, but, you know."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "So how did your current gang of misfits show up?"

"They broke into Panic! -- that's the space station," Ryan says, "don't know the reason yet, maybe they suspected Urie and Valdes had one of their own -- actually, Alex was there, with me, we'll say Urie and Valdes snatched him for unrelated reasons, saw me, recognised me, took me with them. That was a week ago."

"Okay," Spencer says, scribbling a few notes. "I'll get you the finer details sometime in the next few hours."

"Thanks," Ryan says.

"Everyone's got rooms," Spencer says. "I put them in the third wing, off the library."

"Sounds great," Ryan says. "They've got clearance?"

"Yeah," Spencer says. "We should talk about money, too. Rewards and such."

"I'll ask them," Ryan says, rubbing his face with his hands, not relishing the conversation. "Spence."

"Yes."

"How'd he die."

Spencer looks at Ryan for a long moment. Then he says, "Alcohol poisoning."

"Right." Ryan nods a little to himself.

"He hasn't been well," Spencer says hesitantly. "And then he—"

"Went on a binge," Ryan says. "Yup. Okay." He draws in a shuddering breath and says, "Because that's the responsible thing to do, when you're ruling a kingdom."

"Ryan," Spencer says.

"I'm sorry," Ryan says. He clasps his hands together, wishes Alex was here to hold onto. "Has any attempt been made to find my mother?"

"Yes," Spencer says. "She's still off the map. We've sent messengers out, but we're not sure if they're going to find her in time for the funeral. To be honest, if they don't, it won't be a big deal. She might try and bring her new husband along, and then get up in your business, and we really don't need even more complications—"

"Understood," Ryan says. "As long as someone tells her, you know, eventually." He leans back against the seat a little. "What's on today?"

Spencer draws in a breath and starts to tell him. Ryan stares out the car window, at the grey, autumn afternoon. It's going to rain in a little while. He thinks about summer at Greta's house, and forces himself to listen.

\---

The brief walk inside means more photographers, and the crew all being in different cars means Ryan can't really talk to them one-on-one but he figures whoever on staff is with them will warn them that it's another brief photo op. Even in the entrance hall, with its grand arched ceilings and marble floors, there are a few photographers allowed.

Ryan knows each of them and would, under normal circumstances, say a polite hello and allot them at least a little attention but he suspects they'll understand if he's not that concerned with them today. Even that's part of the show.

They veer left, into what used to be Ryan's personal library. It still is, he supposes, but then, so's the main collection now. So's - everything. "Huh," Ryan says, thoughtfully, looking up at the shelves and the painted clouds on the ceiling.

"Yes?" Spencer says.

"So I guess I'm home now," Ryan says. "In - my palace. Okay."

"Yeah," Spencer says, and looks at his watch. "All right, dinner's seven hours from now. We've already got - the crew is vegetarian?"

"Alex - Captain Greenwald is," Ryan nods. "The rest of them kind of defer to that, but as long as the captain has an entree I don't think it should matter too much."

"Right, okay," Spencer says, taking note of it and sending the message along to the kitchen staff. "That shouldn't change their plans any, but they deserved an update just in case."

"Do we - okay, there are probably things to do. I should have a speech for tomorrow's press conference."

"Actually," Spencer says, looking at his notepad again. "If we can do that in five hours. A little before dinner, and we'll let a few reporters ask questions at the end. Just the usual suspects, no big surprises. We've got people talking to them already."

"Fire hours," Ryan says, a little dimly, then shrugs it off. "So should I - have we talked to my stylist? Do I wear what I returned in, or is it back to the usual?"

"Still figuring that out," Spencer says. "You will want to get cleaned up a little, get your hair trimmed."

Ryan lifts a hand to touch the hair at the nape of his neck. It's a little longer, he supposes, after nearly a month. Not much, but probably in need of cleaning up - and if it's to the point where he thinks it needs cleaned up it's probably been needing it for longer. He smiles a little, wryly. "So, do I - someone's briefing the crew, right? Do I get to talk to them again, or what?"

"We're getting that sorted out," Spencer says. "Might have the captain in on the press conference, if you think he can put together a coherent sentence."

Ryan laughs a little, though it sounds strange. "Yeah. Okay. You're sure?"

Spencer's mouth quirks up in a tentative smile. "No."

"Spence, c'mon," Ryan says. "You're supposed to be the one who knows everything, here."

"Anyway, so," Spencer says, and they get down to work.

\---

Ryan goes to find Alex before he gets cleaned up, because he figures Alex is probably going to need that, as well. He wishes they had time to get Alex something tailored, but clothes off the rack will have to do. Probably it's not the best thing to get Alex a really well-fitted suit right now, anyway; Ryan needs to be concentrating on the job at hand.

The crew are gathered in one of the conference rooms. Z is talking, waving her hands around, looking almost urgent, but only half of them are paying attention; the others are staring around looking a little tired, and Darren and Annie are talking quietly in a corner. Alex is leaning forward listening to Z, but when Ryan pushes open the door he stands up immediately, chair scraping backwards, and then looks a little embarrassed.

"Everything okay?" Sam asks.

"Fine," Ryan says. "Are you guys all right? Have you had food and stuff? Been shown your rooms?"

"The rooms are still being made up," Sam says, "but we've had food, yeah. Pretty awesome food." He smiles almost shyly at Ryan, and Ryan nods.

"Good," he says. "Just call if you need anyone. The -- intercom in the corner links you with the steward office, and. Yes." He looks at Alex. "Can I borrow you for a while?"

"Yeah," Alex says, and comes forward, looking a little relieved. Ryan gives him a small smile and waves to everyone before he shuts the door, grabbing Alex's hand and pulling him into another empty room. Alex plucks at Ryan's sleeve in a strange way, pulling off a loose thread of cotton, eyes intent. "Can I -- is there something I can do for you?"

"Only if you feel up to it," Ryan says. "There's a press conference in about five hours. Spencer thinks it might be a good idea for you to do it with me."

"Oh," Alex says, eyes widening. "Oh, wow. Okay."

"Only if you want to," Ryan says. "I know it's kind of -- they can be a bit scary."

"No, I can do it," Alex says. He smiles crookedly. "I presume you've got a story you're going to need me to tell."

"Yes," Ryan says. "You ran afoul of Urie and Valdes, maybe refused to do a deal for them or something like that. You got captured, your crew broke in to get you out, you guys found me, recognised me, took me with you. And I was fragile or whatever, which is why I was recuperating for a week instead of coming straight back to the capital."

"Okay," Alex says.

"Any hard questions, I'll try and deflect them," Ryan says. "If you don't know what to say, try something meaningless, or something you've already said before, or just don't answer and I'll fix it up."

"Got it," Alex says.

Ryan bites his lip, tilting his head to the side. "Mind coming and getting a haircut with me? Just a trim."

Alex laughs. "Sure," he says comfortably. "You're just lucky it is what it is. For a while I didn't cut it for almost three years."

"I like your hair," Ryan tells him, and he tugs his fingers through it just to prove it. Alex smiles down at him, and Ryan gives in to temptation and kisses him, just for a moment, Alex's hands holding his hips and pulling him close. Then he breaks away, forehead pressed against Alex's, and says, apologetically, "There's not a lot of time."

"Yeah," Alex says, voice low, and Ryan stays there for a moment longer, eyes closed, before he turns and leads Alex out. He drops Alex's hand when they leave the room. He's pretty sure today's not the day for any media to pick up on that.

\---

The scripted part of the press conference goes about as well as can be expected. Spencer talks for a while, Ryan gives a short speech, and Alex stands off to the side nearer to the security personnel than to the prince regent. Ryan is going to have to get used to that change in title.

The questions are easy enough; Ryan gets the chance to denounce Urie and Valdes, making a formal statement as to how his government has no intent of dealing with the two. An explanation of the pictures, after that, which is simple enough. Ryan's seen them by now. He doesn't look remotely pleased in any of them.

"A question for Captain Greenwald," one of the reporters says. Ryan is pretty sure he recognizes the guy as being rather spectacularly annoying. He is also pretty sure he isn't on the list of people who should be talking. "Captain Greenwald, sir, how do you react to the allegations of criminal conduct directed against you and your crew?"

Ryan draws in a sharp breath, prepared to say something - Spencer steps forward, too - but Alex is already talking and interrupting would look bad. Hopefully worse than what Alex is going to say.

"I don't think that rescuing His Highness can be called criminal conduct," Alex says, with his most winning smile. "But if that's what you want to call it, well. I have no regrets about doing what needed to be done."

That wouldn't have been how Ryan would have answered, but he thinks it'll do. At least it will make a decent sound bite.

The press pool goes a little crazy realizing things are off script but they just wait it out until thins settle down and Spencer can point to the next approved journalist for the next officially-sanctioned question.

Spencer's just stepping forward to wrap it up when another reporter steps up and shouts, "Captain Greenwald!" and Alex turns automatically. "Captain Greenwald, what exactly does your ship deal in that got it approached by hardened criminals like Valdes and Urie?"

"We're freelance," Alex says calmly. "A lot of importing and exporting, glorified messenger business. Valdes and Urie approached us with an idea, but we're not particularly interested in dealing with criminals."

"And what do you say to eyewitness accounts of you with Prince Ryan on Armade II, a week before the alleged rescue?"

"Come on, now, Harvey," Spencer says, stepping up to the microphone, "I think there's enough going on at the moment without conspiracy theories. There were reported sightings of Prince Ryan everywhere in his absence. That's enough, now."

He nods to Ryan, and Ryan rests his hand against Alex's back. "Thank you, guys," he says. "I'll see more of you soon, I'm sure." Then he nudges Alex into movement and they walk back through the doors, the room suddenly quiet

"Nice work," Ryan says.

"Armade II," Alex says, sounding a little shaken. "That's where the military guys came after us—"

"Don't worry about them," Ryan says.

"They had a kill order out on me," Alex says. "They know who I am."

"No," Ryan says. "They had a kill order out on my kidnapper. And they work for me."

Alex breathes in. "And that's enough?"

"Yes."

Spencer comes up to join them. "Okay, good work," he says briskly. "Dinner's in two hours, Captain. Highness, I need you to come meet with the generals with me."

Ryan thinks about telling Spencer that he doesn't have to call Ryan by titles, that it's just Alex, who's not going to tell on them or be horrified that Ryan's best friend since he was five addresses Ryan by his first name, but Spencer looks worn out and stressed and probably it's not the best time. Ryan nods to Alex. "I'll see you later. Can you find your way back all right?"

"I'm sure someone will help me out," Alex says, half-smiling. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Ryan nods, and lets Spencer lead him away.

\---

He doesn't get to go to dinner. The meeting with the generals runs over, and then some of the higher nobility are insisting that Ryan meet with them. "They have to be able to say they've met with you today," Spencer says, "to the press, or they lose all their esteem, but we can just do a drive-by if you want—"

"No, let's get it over with," Ryan says, and he gets a round of condolences and poorly disguised questions about the kidnapping and what it was like and how likely it is that they're going to be next. He has dinner sent up to him in between meetings with them, and the last of them leaves at ten o'clock.

Spencer looks at Ryan and breathes out. "Ryan. The funeral."

"Let's deal with that tomorrow," Ryan says. "It can wait another day. The main planning is already underway?"

"We need your input, too," Spencer says.

"I know," Ryan says. "But that can wait. Talk to me about the coronation."

"It has to be handled carefully," Spencer says, "because you're not going to be king, and because there's no one to hand down the title just yet, so we have to pick someone to represent your father. I've started compiling a list of candidates--"

It's way past midnight when Spencer finally calls it a night.

\---

Ryan takes his breakfast alone that morning, in a fit of self-indulgence. He thinks about allowing Alex a private audience or whatever, but thinks possibly that's too much right now. So he eats alone, and then gets ready to face the day and plan his father's funeral.

He keeps thinking about how, if he'd been here, this wouldn't have been such a surprise. At least there would have been warning, but things were kept quiet because he was missing and then the king was dead. Ryan would have liked a few more weeks, at least, to just be Ryan and enjoy whatever time he got with the crew -- with Alex, mostly. Now it's back to titles and politics, and succession temporarily fucked up.

After getting his clothes on, Ryan takes a moment to stand where he is and rub at his temples. Then he nods and calls for Spencer. There's to be a meeting of all his advisers, and he should just go directly, but he wants Spencer to come with him, which isn't especially fair. Spencer is exhausted by everything, too, it seems like, but Spencer also knows the minutiae of what's gone on in Ryan's absence.

If Spencer will let Ryan lean on him, Ryan will lean on him.

\---

"Of course, there's the matter of King George -- may he rest in peace -- the matter of his sister," one of the older advisers says. He has tired eyes, and speaks with one elbow on the table, resting his head against his hand. "And her son, who was formally withdrawn fifteen—"

"We know all that," Spencer says, cutting him off. "What, do you think she's going to try to place him in power? She stepped aside from the throne herself. It wouldn't make sense."

"She stepped aside, yes, but then she got married," the adviser says with a yawn. "And her husband is a more ambitious man."

Ryan frowns for a moment, then says, very carefully, "If I were to claim the throne as mine, who would challenge me?"

After a while, Ryan's eyes glaze over and he just lets his staff argue amongst themselves, until Spencer leans as close as is allowed and repeats his name until he pays attention. Spencer would normally just shake him for attention, but everyone's being very careful right now.

"What," Ryan says, looking around a bit startled.

"Highness," Spencer says, not quite with a laugh. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen, I do believe it's long since time for lunch."

"Oh," Ryan says. "It is, isn't it? Can we come back to this after eating, then?"

There are nods of assent around the table, and Ryan gets up and wanders in the general direction of the kitchen.

"Ah, hey," Spencer says. "Lunch with Greenwald's crew, since you missed dinner last night. I told you that this morning."

"Really?" Ryan asks, then shrugs, rather cheered by the prospect. "All right, then."

The crew seem marginally more relaxed today, at least; they're talking at their usual volume, and when Ryan and Spencer come in they greet them a lot more cheerfully. Alex is a little quieter, looking up at Ryan with the same weird smile Ryan's not used to but has been cropping up a fair bit the past few days. Darren, on Alex's left, drags his chair to the side, leaving room for Ryan and Spencer to fit in there too.

Ryan introduces Spencer properly to the crew, and Spencer says, dryly, "I'd say thanks for rescuing him, but it's still too early in the day to be taken for a complete moron."

"Isn't the point to be moronic as early as possible?" Z asks, poking her fork in the air to illustrate her point. "Then you can blame it on waking up."

"Lunch is a tricky domain, though," Laena puts in. "Too early, not early enough? I see your dilemma."

"Thank you," Spencer says, looking amused. He's sitting very straight in his chair, like he's still dealing with all the royal advisers. Ryan wants to try and make him relax, get him to see that this isn't the same as official stuff, but he's not sure how to say it. Maybe Spencer has the right idea, anyway. It's easier to stay in character -- though that's not right, either, Ryan's been ready for this almost his whole life, just. It's easier to stay ready, he supposes, if he doesn't slump against Alex and lay his head against Alex's shoulder and clutch onto his hand, even if that's what he wants to do.

"So what's going on today?" Z asks, looking at Ryan.

"Meeting with a lot of people," Ryan says. He looks at Spencer, and Spencer nods in confirmation. "They're trying to work out how to manage the whole -- crown thing."

"Highness," Spencer says in an undertone.

Ryan shoots a look at him. "I'm not going to call it the crown thing in front of _them_ , come on."

Spencer shrugs.

"What's to work out?" Sam asks. "Aren't you, you know. The heir?"

"Not technically," Ryan says. "It's -- the crown was passed to my dad when my aunt defaulted on it, because she fell in love with the Ambassador from another system, and everyone was worried about conflict of interests, and she was never particularly interested in it anyway, like, they'd known since they were kids, she was probably going to pass it down to my dad. So then it's supposed to revert back to the line and go to her son, but he's always been pretty frail, like, physically and mentally, so, you know."

"But all the legal stuff means His Highness can't technically be king," Spencer puts in. "So he'd be the Regent Prince, and then eventually it will probably go to his aunt's second child's children, when they grow up, they'll be King or Queen."

"Wow," Z says.

"It's kind of convoluted," Ryan says, poking at his food. He should eat, but he's not particularly hungry. "And now my aunt's remarried, and some of the advisers are worried about her husband, and." Spencer nudges him, and Ryan bites his lip. It's not like any of them are going to go out immediately and sell this conversation to the tabloids, but he gets Spencer's point. "Anyway. Meetings today, is the point."

"And -- your dad?" Z sounds tentative.

"Funeral's the day after tomorrow," Ryan says. "How are you guys settling in?"

"Pretty well," Darren says.

"I think that has to be the best bed I've slept in, like, in my life," Sam says.

"See," Ryan says. "See, I keep giving you new experiences. I'm - very benevolent. You know."

"Clearly, you had this planned all along," Annie says. "It was all one big plan to spoil us with cozy beds."

"Precisely," Ryan says, then stops paying attention for a minute to let the crew talk amongst themselves, which they seem happy enough to do. He only half-listens. He's going to miss them enough as it is. He supposes he's a bit spoiled, getting so used to them in the span of a few weeks, but the idea of having proper friends was pretty novel - still sort of is, not that Spencer isn't great - and. Ryan is trying not to think about it. He takes a thoughtful bite of sandwich.

He chews, swallows, and looks around for a moment, considering.

"Where's Alex?"

Jeff blinks. "He was here a minute ago."

"I know," Ryan says, a little frustrated. He's kind of mad at himself, too, because normally he's pretty focused on Alex and what he's doing, even if that's kind of lame of him, but he supposes Alex snuck off in the spiel about kings and hereditary descent and such. Ryan rubs his face with his hands. "I might go see if I can find him."

"We need to be back in half an hour," Spencer says.

"I know," Ryan says. "I'll be there. It's cool, I'm not that hungry anymore, anyway."

\---

The palace is pretty big, and tracking Alex down could take a while, but Ryan wanders down two hallways and then asks one of the security guys standing guard by the doors if they've seen him.

"Isn't he the one out there, Your Highness?" the guy says, and points out the window to the gardens. Ryan squints. Alex is wandering along the garden path, out by the willow trees, hands in his pockets.

"Yes, he is," Ryan says. "Thank you."

The guy opens the door for him. "Will you be requiring a coat, Highness?"

"No, I won't be long," Ryan says, even though it's cold outside, and he's only wearing a light shirt. It had been overheated in the conference rooms, and for a moment he thinks wistfully of his jacket hung over the back of his chair, but then he gives it up and sets off after Alex.

After a while Alex notices him and stops walking to turn and wait. Ryan gets up closer, hunching his shoulders a little against the wind. He doesn't try and shout across to Alex, because that's pretty undignified, but he hurries until he's standing in front of him.

"Hey," he says. "Why'd you go?"

"Sorry," Alex says. "I wanted some fresh air."

"Okay." Ryan nods a little to himself. "Sure, all right."

"I did," Alex says, a hint of stubbornness in his tone.

"I believe you," Ryan says. He stares at his feet. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I know this is all really weird," Ryan says.

"Jesus." Alex laughs a little harshly, and reaches out to touch Ryan's face, sliding cool fingers along Ryan's cheek, thumb brushing over Ryan's mouth. Ryan breathes in shakily. "I can't believe they're doing this to you," Alex tells him.

"They're not doing anything," Ryan says. "Who?"

"Then I can't believe you're doing this to you," Alex says.

Ryan just looks at him blankly. He wants to just curl up against Alex and sleep for a very, very long time and either not think about things, or else think about all the things he can't be bothered with right now.

He's known for a while it was going to be a messy succession. There's the matter of his mother and his aunt both, and his aunt's second husband - and her son, and if she'll have any more children or even be able to bear anymore without the risk of birth defects. If she doesn't have more children, technically Ryan _will_ be next in line, he's pretty sure, unless there's someone else along the family tree. He should know this, should remember his lineage better, but right now he's trying to deal with enough things that he doesn't want to imagine his grandfather having a brother having a child, or whatever convoluted messes could potentially arise.

Someone would have mentioned if there were anything like that anyway.

Enough time's gone by without Ryan answering that Alex just says, "Are you going to be all right?"

Ryan shrugs, not meeting Alex's eyes. "I have to be."

Alex pulls him into a hug, and Ryan indulges it for just a moment but steps back much sooner than he'd like. "Even though people here are technically on my side, it's all kind of." He pauses, shrugs. "I still don't know how to - yeah."

"Right, yeah," Alex nods, partly to himself.

"Can we sit?" Ryan asks. He slept decently last night, though not as long as he would have liked, comfy in his own bed and own sheets and own pajamas. He's tired. It's a bad sign that he's this tired already, probably. He's been around for crises before. He's done press conferences before, too.

"Yeah, sure," Alex says, and they go sit underneath a willow tree, close enough to bump their knees together but not near as close as Ryan wants.

"Maybe, tonight," Ryan says, softly. "Depending on - who I have to meet with and everything."

Alex is quiet.

"It's a bit difficult to sneak around, but there are ways," Ryan says. "You wouldn't mind, would you? If."

"Just give me the word," Alex says. "I'm awesome at sneaking. Or, like, aiding sneaking. Probably you should do the sneaking, unless you want a hardened criminal knowing the lay of the palace grounds."

Ryan laughs a little. "Right, yes, because I'm so concerned that you're going to like - break in and kill the king in his sleep, that's a really likely scenario. What would you even."

"I was thinking more stealing the family jewels," Alex says, slowly. He puts a tentative hand on Ryan's shoulder, like he isn't quite sure if he can. Ryan isn't sure if he should, but. "I probably would have come up with a clever pun, too, but - gallows humor works too."

"Yours would have been funnier," Ryan says. "Sorry. Right, sorry. I have to go in a bit, but. I'll - see you at dinner, maybe, or else tonight. I might have to have a formal dinner. I'm not sure."

\---

It's another late night. Ryan tries, at one point, to get away, but then someone comes in with news that a couple of the colonies on the outskirts of Ryan's kingdom are declaring that Ryan's return is a hoax, and that he's being impersonated while he actually lies in a filthy dungeon somewhere. He has to go on a video conference for a couple of hours, then, with different corners of the kingdom, trying to sort everything out without actually flying all the way to the goddamn colony himself.

It's settled by a promise that he'll personally greet a representative after the coronation, which is probably what they were angling for all along. Ryan might be amused, in different circumstances, but tonight he's tired and furious and kind of hates people.

It's hard to avoid the security guys standing around at the beginning of each hallway, but Ryan trusts them, for the most part, to keep their mouths shut. They're paid to, anyway, and trained to, and it's getting late. He might not even be properly registered, though that line of reasoning is pretty flawed. Anyway, it's late and dark and Ryan doesn't get noticed by anyone else when he takes the wrong turn on the way to his bedroom.

He's just glad he thought to ask Alex what room he was in, because all the doors look the same and he doesn't want to go barging in on Z or Darren or anyone. Alex is third on the right, and there's a dim golden glow coming from under the door. Ryan lets himself in quietly.

Alex is sprawled out under the blankets, holding a book in one hand, fast asleep with his glasses on. Ryan takes a moment just to lean back against the door and watch him, and feel kind of amused and regretful at once. Then he goes over and gently pries the book out of Alex's hand and takes off his glasses and switches off the lamp.

Ryan's just glad Alex is already under the blankets, as that would probably take a lot more careful planning to keep from waking him. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his shoes and then his shirt and trousers, throwing them carelessly over the back of a chair. It's not like they won't be washed and ironed before he wears them again anyway, no matter how neatly he puts them away. He should have thought to get tomorrow's -- today's? -- outfit and bring it with him here so he doesn't have to have it brought to him or sneak back in his old clothes to his bedroom, but that can't be helped now. Even the idea of getting dressed again and going back for it makes Ryan's head ache.

He climbs in under the covers, wrapping himself around Alex, tucking his face against Alex's chest. Alex makes a sleepy noise, shifting to accommodate him, and Ryan's chest feels very tight. He feels stupidly lonely, even with Alex right here, and he half wants to wake Alex up and make Alex talk to him or fuck him or something, but that's probably not very nice.

He thinks now would be a great time to just turn his brain off and get some rest, but that doesn't seem like a possibility.

Eventually Ryan manages to drift off, but it doesn't last long. He wakes up to Alex laying a kiss against his forehead.

"Hey," Alex says, voice hushed. "Morning soon. Your little - alarm thing."

"Oh," Ryan says, just then noticing the insistent peeping of his watch. He taps at it and the alarm goes off. "Sorry."

"Sleep okay?"

"Kind of," Ryan says, after a moment. "I mean, the sleep part was good. It was getting there."

"When'd you come in?"

"Late," Ryan says.

"When are you going to get a real chance to rest?"

Ryan shrugs, helplessly. "Some day, probably."

"Some day." Alex laughs and kisses him, quick and sweet and somehow sad. "Well, hell. Some day I'm going to be rich and famous."

"Already famous," Ryan says. "For now, anyway."

"Huh." Alex pauses to consider that. "Wow, okay."

"It'll take a little while for news to properly circulate, but yeah. People will know who you are."

"And all the cool kids will be talking about how they knew me when." Alex grins. "They'll, like. Bust out high school yearbooks and shit. Pull up old photos of me from whatever networks."

"Probably," Ryan says. "You had awful hair, by the way."

"I - what, in high school?"

"Yup."

"How did - no, don't actually tell me. I'm going to pretend you were being a creep, because I like that version better than your staff being creeps."

Ryan manages to laugh again, but then he sits up, brushing at his hair with his fingers. "Okay, I have to get going or else I'll, like. You know. People will see."

"Doesn't your castle have secret passages?" Alex asks, disappointed. "I thought you got in through a secret passage."

"Not directly from my room to here," Ryan says. "The one in here goes to - huh. Okay, so you go left, and through - yeah, it comes out behind the gardener's house. You can get to the kitchen, too, though, and from the kitchen it's possible to - anyway. Too much dust."

Trying to remember all the little byways and passages and routes around the building keeps Ryan entertained while he puts his clothes back on, and he talks, for a little bit, mentions old adventures he and Spencer had exploring - the time they walked in on the cook stealing scraps of food, for example. A bit of detective work proved the cook was just feeding a stray cat.

Ryan is pretty sure the cat is still around, though she usually stays out of his wing. She's also the best-fed cat in the galaxy by this point.

Alex says, "Little grey one, with the white spot on her chest?"

"Yeah." Ryan sits down on the edge of the bed again so he can pull his socks back on. Wandering the palace in his underwear seems ill-advised at best.

"Oh, I saw that cat," Alex says. "She seemed shy."

"Sounds right." Ryan smiles over at Alex, then looks down so he can retie his shoelaces and have them looking nice and neat. "I'll see you at breakfast this morning?"

"I'm not the one who skipped it yesterday, but sure," Alex says.

"I didn't skip it. I was just."

"Yeah," Alex says, leaning over to just barely brush his fingers against Ryan's arm. "Yeah, it's cool. I figured. Sorry."

"It's fine. Breakfast should be good. I asked for waffles."

"Oh, damn, no chilled roasted beets?"

"At _breakfast_?" Ryan asks, incredulously. "Tell me they didn't do that yesterday."

"They didn't," Alex says. "That was dinner the other night, though. Or it was a side _at_ dinner."

"Oh, well."

"It was still disconcerting," Alex says. "I was just trying to enjoy a meal, you know, and then wham. Beetroots all up in my face."

"I'm very, very sorry," Ryan says, and leans down to kiss Alex properly, because he hasn't in what feels like a long time and that's wrong. Alex sighs and tilts his head up and then Ryan realizes it's easier if he just sits on Alex's lap, or even pushes him back down against the bed, and then Alex rolls them over and Ryan is holding onto him as tight as he can. Alex's weight on top of him is good and so is Alex's mouth and Alex's hands and for a brief moment Ryan entertains the idea of skipping breakfast.

Then he breaks away and says breathlessly, "Alex."

"Yes." Alex's voice has dropped lower than usual, rough, and Ryan groans a little and kisses him again, and then he wriggles out from under him and says, "No, okay. Breakfast."

Alex nods, still lying on the bed. It's not fair. He looks indecent. "Waffles," he says.

"Right," Ryan agrees, and slips out of the room before he gets distracted again.

\---

He's just fixing his collar when Spencer comes in. Spencer looks at the perfectly made bed and raises his eyebrows, and Ryan smiles politely at him. Spencer laughs and shakes his head. "Are you going to dry your hair?" he asks.

"No," Ryan says, and shakes his head to spatter Spencer with drops, just to be an asshole. "It's just breakfast."

"Okay," Spencer says, comfortably enough, which means either that he's in a good mood or that there's not going to be anyone important at breakfast. Ryan hopes it's both.

"So," Spencer says, a little uncertainly. "There's this." He holds out a folder.

"What is it?" Ryan asks.

"Some eulogies," Spencer says. "If you want to choose one."

Ryan sits down on his bed, taking the folder, rubbing his mouth with his hand. "I thought maybe I was meant to write one," he says.

"You can, if you want," Spencer says. "You didn't say anything, so I got a couple drafted."

"Right," Ryan says. "Well, maybe. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Spencer says. He hesitates another moment and then says, "So, the other thing is."

"Yeah?"

"Captain Greenwald, huh?" Spencer says softly, and Ryan stiffens.

"You don't need to say anything," he says.

"I'm not."

"Good," Ryan says. "Because I already know it, and I'm not, I wouldn't do it to him, anyway. He's got a life."

"Okay," Spencer says.

"It's not like he can go anywhere for a while," Ryan says. "Even after the banquet and -- it'll look weird if he takes off right away." He knows he sounds too hopeful with that, hates himself a little bit for it. "He's doing us a favour."

"We're doing him a favour, Ryan," Spencer says, voice hard. "He kidnapped you."

"You don't know what happened," Ryan snaps, and then he stands up and says, "I'm really hungry."

"I don't," Spencer agrees. "I'd know if you would _tell_ me, though."

Ryan says, "They made waffles, right? Like I asked?"

"Waffles with pineapple-mango compote," Spencer says, nodding.

"Oh," Ryan says, because he was sort of hoping for raspberry, maybe, but at this point the cook's probably spent hours and, even though Ryan _could_ complain, it wouldn't be the best move, probably. Hopefully the results will be good, anyway. It sounds tasty, just not what Ryan was anticipating. "You know, they're all."

He stops, not sure what he's saying, but right before they go into the dining room, Ryan says, "You can drop the titles around them."

Spencer looks at him.

Ryan shrugs. "What? It's not like I'm sleeping with all of them."

At breakfast, Ryan sits next to Alex, immediate and a little stubborn. Alex smiles at him, a little easier than the past few days, and Ryan slips his hand under the table to hold Alex's, winding their fingers together. It means he has to eat with his left hand, and break off the waffles awkwardly with a fork rather than a knife, but Ryan can see Alex's face, even with Alex's head ducked, and it's worth it, that look.

"So what's on today?" Z asks.

Ryan looks at Spencer. Spencer rolls his eyes.

"Meetings with ambassadors this morning," Spencer says. "The seven main planets, obviously -- the others can wait until later. And then. We have to review some things for tomorrow. There's going to be a rehearsal-ish thing."

Alex's grip on Ryan's hand tightens a little. Ryan wonders if he should explain things properly about his dad at some point, tell Alex about his dad the king and his dad the drunk and all the stuff in between, but. It's kind of good, that Alex doesn't ask or expect him to say anything.

Ryan says, "So are you going to need all of us for that?"

"Just you," Spencer says, looking suddenly careful. "Ryan, I couldn't." He breathes in. "Guys, I'm sorry, but you don't have security clearance for the funeral."

Ryan stares. "What?"

"Homeland Security's not clearing them," Spencer says. "I'm sorry. I tried."

"But," Ryan says, and doesn't know how to follow it up. His leg is pressed up against Alex's under the table.

"We're already asking them to forgive or ignore a lot," Spencer says. "They're not going to budge on this."

"Fuck that," Ryan says. "I'm -- I'm the goddamn Prince Regent, doesn't that mean anything--"

"Okay, for one, I'm not going to let you start by pissing off the generals," Spencer snaps. "And secondly, you're not, yet, and in any case, you're not responsible for your own safety. They are."

"It's not like anyone here's going to kill me," Ryan says.

"They don't know that," Spencer says. "And your friends' records aren't the comforting kind we'd like to wrangle an extra eight spaces for the king's funeral."

"No," Ryan starts.

"Ryan," Z says. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

Ryan's almost trembling, he realizes distantly. It shouldn't be such a big deal -- it's not like the crew are the type to get offended by such a slight. Ryan hasn't thought it out loud, though, but he's kind of been counting on having Alex somewhere close, Alex and Spencer on either side of him, maybe.

"Hey," Alex says, and squeezes Ryan's hand again. Ryan looks at him for a moment, and then nods.

"Thanks anyway," he tells Spencer, because he's been a bit of an asshole this morning, and he guesses he should stop that.

Spencer looks at him carefully. "And then you've got this afternoon off."

Ryan blinks. "Really?"

"Well," Spencer says. "There's choosing the eulogy, and your stylist's probably going to want to finalize your suit for tomorrow, but apart from that. After dinner you've got one meeting with the presiding official tomorrow, and then, you know. An early night's probably a good idea." He flicks a quick glance at Alex, and Ryan tilts his chin up just a little.

"A free afternoon, though," he says.

"As close as you're going to get for a while," Spencer tells him wryly.

"Have I told you lately," Ryan says, "how great you are, Spence?"

"No." Spencer gives him a pointed look, and Ryan manages to laugh again. He's trying. Everything is still stupid and weird and the king is dead, but. Spencer's still around, which is one comforting constant.

"Maybe I'll issue a statement," Ryan muses. "Informing the whole of the kingdom. All dozen worlds, the major ones _and_ the stupid ones no one cares about."

" _Ryan_ ," Spencer says, and Ryan attempts a grin. Spencer still looks concerned, so possibly Ryan didn't do that good of a job.

"At least," Ryan says. "Once - the whole succession thing is sorted. At least I'll be able to start wearing colors again."

Ryan doesn't actually mind black suit and tie, but already anticipates getting tired of it during the official period of mourning. That the state mandates he be sad for a specific amount of time seems a bit frustrating, because he might move on quicker or be sad longer but it's appearances that count.

"A whole afternoon, though," Ryan muses, thinking of what to do with all that time. Besides the obvious ideas, which have him brushing his thumb over the back of Alex's hand. He almost just wants to nap, but that seems like a terrible waste. "We could all go down to the menagerie."

"You have a _menagerie_?" Z asks.

"It's more of a zoo," Ryan says. "It's pretty nice, I mean. Lots of space for the animals."

"But you call it a menagerie, that's the key thing here," Annie says.

"Yes."

"That's so -" Tennessee starts, but gives up giggling.

Ryan stares at each of them. "What?"

"They just think it's a funny word," Alex says, then glances over at the girls. "I think."

\---

Ryan ends up trying to combine a little of all his ideas, which is, he thinks, the key to life. They pack an afternoon picnic, rather than having lunch in the dining room again. Ryan invites Spencer along, but Spencer says he has things to do, and Ryan suspects that he might want a little while to himself, anyway. He's pretty sure Spencer's not shy or anything. Ryan hopes not. It's better if everyone just -- gets along, or whatever.

They walk to the menagerie, which is on palace grounds but towards the back, far away from the actual castle and all the press who tend to hang around the front parts of it. Z has procured a picnic rug from someone, and she's actually wearing a straw hat with a jaunty bow. Ryan is kind of impressed.

By the time they get there they're all starting to get peckish, and they set up the picnic first, near the aviary with the hundreds of birds watching them in an interested sort of way. Ryan waves a little at them, and Alex snorts, leaning forward for a moment to press his face against Ryan's shoulder.

Ryan still doesn't have much of an appetite. When Alex has moved on from dropping sandwich crumbs and pieces everywhere to an apple, Ryan lies down, resting his head in Alex's lap and closing his eyes.

"Hey, now," Alex says, amused. "What if I want to go see the animals?"

"You can see the animals," Ryan says. "They're all around you."

"You think you're so smart," Alex says, and taps Ryan on the nose.

"So, Ryan," Darren says, and then, quickly, "I mean, High--"

"No one here but us, it's cool," Ryan says.

"Anyway." Darren sounds a little embarrassed. "What's on this week, besides. Besides tomorrow?"

"Do you get to rest at any point?" Tennessee asks, voice almost anxious.

Ryan laughs tiredly. "The coronation is four days from now. Then everything kicks into high-gear for a year, at least."

"A year?" Z says, disbelieving.

"First year of a reign is always important," Ryan says. "They watch you constantly. And there's lots of reaffirming old alliances and things." Alex starts combing his fingers through Ryan's hair, and Ryan pushes back into the touch with a sigh. He says, eyes closed, "I mean, nothing's set in stone. I could spend a year being decadent and, and ridiculous, but. I don't think that would be a very good thing to do."

"Right," Tennessee says.

"Banquet for you guys two weeks from tomorrow," Ryan reminds them, and about half of them groan. Alex laughs, and Ryan squints open one eye to smile at him.

"I'm going to see the animals," Annie says, and a bunch of the others stand up with her. Darren and Jeff are talking quietly on the other side of the picnic rug, and Ryan opens his eyes properly and looks at Alex.

"You want to go look?" he asks.

"Why don't we just sit here for a minute," Alex says, and Ryan reaches up to tug Alex down by his collar. They kiss slow and a little off-balance and Ryan breaks away after a moment, mindful of Alex's back at a weird angle, and of the others around them. It's not that he thinks they'd really mind, just that it's probably not very good manners.

"You can nap a little, if you like," Alex says, and resumes stroking his hand over Ryan's forehead and hair, and Ryan closes his eyes and lets himself, just for a little while.

Ryan wakes up maybe an hour later. Alex sits quietly, thumbing through the news. Ryan doesn't know where he got the little computer but supposes it doesn't much matter.

"Apparently you're doing admirably considering your recent hardships," Alex informs him. "Which seems to me like kind of an understatement, but I'm not a journalist. Oh, I am dashing, roguish, and the talk of the town, though. What with being a bachelor and your incredibly suspicious rescuer."

"Oh my god," Ryan says. "Shut up. Unless the tabloids have some hilarious conspiracy theories, then I don't. I don't really care right now."

"Ah, yeah," Alex says. "Probably you get enough of that."

"Yup."

"Sorry."

"Eh." Ryan attempts a shrug, but it isn't the clearest of gestures since he's still resting on Alex's lap. "You want to go see the animals? We can go see, uhm."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Alex says. "Figure out where my crew went, you know."

"Maybe they got kidnapped," Ryan says, sitting up and yawning. "Or just got bored."

Alex grins, and Ryan leans in to nuzzle at his cheek. "I'd have thought the latter, but hey."  
"You never know, in these trying times."

\---

"See," Ryan says, pointing toward the back of a deep, boggy enclosure toward a long-legged predatory thing with pronged horns and a narrow snout. "You know what that is?"

"...No?"

"You bought me a stuffed animal, come on," Ryan says, laughing. "How can you not. What."

"Really?" Alex asks, squinting off in the distance. "It's sort of creepy."

"It's _adorable_ , shut up."

"It was more adorable when it was furry," Alex says, eyeing it distrustfully. "It can't -- can it get out of there?"

"Oh my god," Ryan says, kind of delighted. He grins up at Alex. "No. It can't."

"Just checking," Alex says, and Ryan grabs his hand, dragging him off again. "Where are we going?" Alex asks, and Ryan turns back to raise his eyebrows at Alex and then press his hand against a complicated lock, letting them inside a glasshouse. The air is hot and humid inside, and there's the faint hum of generators and the sound of water flowing. There's also a lot of butterflies.

"Now stand still," Ryan says, and Alex does, and Ryan closes his eyes for a moment, because he's still feeling a little drowsy, just waking up. When he opens them again, butterflies have settled on their shoulders and arms and their heads. Alex has his hands outstretched in front of him, palms up, and there are two exotic, brightly colored specimens with thin silky red hairs along their wings perched on his fingertips, antennae waving slightly.

Ryan turns a little, trying to dislodge as few butterflies in the process as possible so he can meet Alex's gaze. Alex beams at him.

"I still like my creepy swamp monster," Ryan tells him.

\---

Ryan's hungry by dinner time. He's also feeling kind of sleepy and boneless, and Alex has his hand on Ryan's knee, rubbing his thumb over the bone. It's been a good afternoon, like surfacing for a breath, and Ryan's got a suit and a eulogy picked out and then he got Alex to mess around with for a full two and a bit hours before the dinner bell went.

It's only the crew and Spencer for dinner again. Ryan checks to see that no one's paying them undue attention and then leans over to press his mouth under Alex's ear for a moment, breathing him in. Alex actually twitches in his seat, pinching Ryan's knee, and Ryan pulls back feeling rather pleased with himself.

Spencer says, "Are you meeting with the minister after dinner, Ryan?"

"About twenty minutes after," Ryan confirms, nodding. He feels unreasonably cross at the intrusion. It's still the afternoon, he thinks, even though it's getting dark outside.

\---

Ryan figures everyone hates funerals, so it isn't particularly interesting of him to dislike them, too. It feels a little cliché and stupid, and he would rather be somewhere else. Then again, he also wouldn't want to miss his own father's funeral, so. It evens out, he guesses, kind of.

He sits stiffly in his chair in the first row while the minister talks, Spencer sitting just to his right. His mother couldn't make it, so the rest of the aisle is filled out by his aunt and cousin. His cousin sleeps through most of the services, occasionally jerking awake with a startled noise when his mother nudges at him.

Ryan's maternal grandparents made it, at least. He'll need to make polite small talk with them later.

The minister finishes speaking and Ryan gets up to deliver his eulogy. If Ryan were in any other situation, probably he'd be a little more honest in remember his father but he's helping build on the idealized vision of the king right now rather than the man.

He pauses mid-sentence at one point, taking in a deep breath. He wants to stop and say how this is all bullshit, how fucked up their relationship was - but. He's twenty three and about to rule not just a country, not just a planet, but fucking twelve of them across seven systems. A lot of his work is delegated and there's a certain extent to which he'll be a figurehead, but that doesn't keep him from needing to take some measure of responsibility. The vague threat of challenge to his position, too, looms over him.

He needs to at least feign maturity and adulthood. He rubs at his eyes and continues on, following the notes Spencer wrote out to help him remember the speech.

\---

It's a decent day for a funeral, Ryan supposes, as he follows behind the minister in the procession to take his father's casket to be interred in the royal mausoleum. The sky's overcast and there's a bit of a chill in the air, but it isn't raining.

Spencer walks a little behind him, now, because there are long lines of photographers and it wouldn't be appropriate for Spencer to be directly at his side. Ryan has to remind himself to clasp his hands behind his back, rather than tuck them in his pockets. There are people lining the streets, too, crying and holding onto each other, and some of them have candles and others have flowers and Ryan wishes he had something to hold onto just now, too.

Instead he follows the procession and listens to people saying more things about his dad, and then he goes back to the palace for the reception. There are people everywhere, dignified officials and distant relatives, and other people who just worked with his father in some form of the government, and waiters taking around silver platters of canapés and champagne. Ryan takes one glass of the champagne and allows himself to get tugged from person to person, nodding and having the same conversation over and over.

Then he spots Z, who's dressed up and talking a little awkwardly to his father's Chief of Staff. Ryan makes his way over and plucks at the sleeve of her dress.

"R-- Your Highness," she says, turning to him, and Ryan smiles at her, resisting the urge to give her a hug.

"Hey," he says. "I didn't -- I didn't know you were going to be here."

"We're official guests of the palace," Z says, "apparently it would have been rude not to invite us to this part." She looks at him steadily. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Ryan says, a different kind of lie to the hundred other times he's answered some variation of that question today. "I. Is Alex here."

Z nods. "Over with Darren," she says, looking towards a corner.

Ryan says, "Thanks, I. Thank you."

"If you want to talk," she says.

"I can't think of anything worse," Ryan says, smiling at her, and then he excuses himself and winds his way through the crowd -- getting bogged down by another three people who want to try and hold his hand and give him their condolences -- and by the time he's reached Alex, Alex is waiting for him. He's wearing a white shirt and a tie and dress pants. He looks good.

"Your Highness," Alex says.

"Let's go now, please," Ryan says, and walks past Alex through the crowd and out into a hidden corridor. He might get in trouble for this, later. He doesn't know. He busies himself with taking off his tie, instead of thinking about any of that. When he looks back over his shoulder, Alex is following him, and Ryan waits for him to catch up and then presses him into a wall to kiss him hard.

"Ryan," Alex gasps, and Ryan rocks his hips against Alex and presses him up closer against the wall, but Alex is turning his face away and saying, "I, there's a whole roomful of people back there—"

"Right, yes," Ryan says, a little out of breath. "Sorry. Bad idea."

Alex nods. "But if you want I'll, I can stick close when we go back in there—"

"No," Ryan says, "come with me," and he takes Alex's hand and sets a fast pace down the hall. He actually knows the passages around here, and when he presses his hand against a bit of wooden panelling it swings open, letting them in. Alex laughs, rough and a little upset sounding, and Ryan considers stopping here but the passage is mostly dark and Ryan's finding his way by sight to the door that opens into his room.

"Ryan," Alex says, when they emerge, but Ryan ignores him to go and lock the door and swipe stuff up from the dressing table, and then he's pushing Alex up against the wall and kissing him again. Alex clutches at Ryan's shirt and pulls him in closer, and Ryan's glad, he's just glad. He fumbles with Alex's tie, pulling it until it loosens, at least, and then he bites at Alex's mouth and undoes his belt and shoves his trousers down. Alex says, "Fuck," and Ryan urges him around and then presses his forehead against Alex's shoulder, quiet for a moment, waiting. Alex says, "C'mon."

Probably Ryan should be gentler. Alex is loud from the first rough press of Ryan's fingers, though, crying out, and Ryan likes the sound of it in the quiet room, the quiet wing of this house, and Ryan doesn't shush him, kisses the back of his neck and holds onto his waist, pulling him down and back. The height difference is awkward, but Alex twists to look back over his shoulder and his eyes are dark and blown and Ryan kisses him with his eyes open. For a moment, he can feel himself losing proper contact, losing track of what's going on, but then Alex puts his hand over Ryan's where it's braced on the wall and digs his fingernails in. Ryan's close, shaking with it.

\---

It's stupid, with the bed so near, but Ryan can't quite make it with his knees wobbling and he sinks to the floor, Alex still pressed up close against him, lobbing the condom into the bin. Alex turns around, pulling his underwear back up and kicking off his trousers and shoes, and holds onto Ryan, face pressed against Ryan's shoulder. Ryan sits there a little awkwardly, not sure where or how he should touch Alex, and then he realizes belatedly that Alex is quietly tidying him up, doing up his fly and pushing Ryan's hair out of his eyes.

"Sorry," Ryan says.

"C'mon," Alex says. "Don't apologise, that's fucked up."

"Yeah," Ryan says, and Alex holds onto him a little tighter. Alex's breathing is still ragged, and there's an odd hitch in it. When he shifts in closer Ryan catches the wince, and feels stupidly guilty, but he doesn't apologise.

"Do you have to go back down there?" Alex asks.

"I shouldn't have left," Ryan says, and then he tilts his head back hopefully, but Alex just kisses him once, sweet and short, and then turns his face away again.

"Are you going back down there?" Alex asks.

"In a little while," Ryan says.

Alex nods a little. "You need to shower, then."

"I -- really?"

"Yes," Alex tells him, and smiles, small and crooked. "You smell."

"Sorry," Ryan says.

"I'm – I like it," Alex says, and presses his face against Ryan's hot throat, "but smelling like sex probably isn't going to go down very well with everyone else."

Ryan nods a little, mostly to himself, and then Alex stands up and pulls Ryan up with him. Ryan watches the careful way Alex is moving and ducks his head, and Alex leads him into the adjoining bathroom. Ryan doesn't remember telling him about that, but he supposes it's a fair guess. Alex turns the water on, and Ryan stands watching him until Alex ducks his head and starts unbuttoning Ryan's shirt. He should have gotten undressed himself, he realizes belatedly, but Alex is careful, getting him to sit down on the closed toilet seat so he can untie Ryan's shoelaces, hanging the shirt and trousers and tie carefully on racks for that purpose. "You might need fresh underwear," he tells Ryan, and Ryan nods. Alex gives him a gentle push and Ryan gets into the shower, and the water is hot enough to dull his head even more, and he just tilts his face up into it.

After a moment Alex climbs in next to him, and says, "Fine," and picks up the soap, lathering it up with his hands and washing Ryan very carefully. Ryan kind of wants to go again but maybe it's too soon or something, and he ends up just standing there and letting Alex get him clean. "You'll have to dry your hair, too," Alex tells him, and Ryan nods a little.

He licks his lips. "Will you stay here?"

"If you want," Alex says.

"I mean," Ryan says, stumbling over his words a little bit, "if you want to go back down--"

"It's okay," Alex says. "It's not really my scene."

"Whose scene _is_ it?" Ryan asks, and laughs a little.

\---

"Allow me to apologize," Ryan finds himself telling some politician whose name he can never remember. "I just needed a moment."

"Of course, your highness," the man says. "This must all be so difficult for you. Your father, God rest his soul, was a great man. But of course, you would know that, your highness, and you must have heard as much all night. Forgive me."

"Yes, well," Ryan says, with a mostly-gracious smile. "We all have to be brave and carry on."

They bid their polite farewells, because someone else wants Ryan's attention and he tries not to roll his eyes as he goes through the motions of another round of condolences. Pretending this isn't all very tedious is a bit trying, but it's a little better, having - gotten away from it for a while.

As soon as he can, once he realizes they're still nearby, Ryan ducks over to have a conversation with Darren and Sam. It's mostly small talk, and he can tell they aren't actually all that interested in the weather, but he just really wants to talk about anything other than his dad right now. So they talk about the weather, and the ship, and.

Darren says, with a bit of a laugh, "It's probably going to be pretty hard to get work after this."

"What?" Ryan asks, startled, because they'd been discussing the cost of supplies and fuel.

"For - to pay for fuel?" Darren says.

"Oh. But, wait, why?"

Sam shrugs, looking around. "People might, uh. Assume we'll want more money per job, now that we've rescued you." He pauses, then belatedly adds, "Your Highness."

"Right, oh," Ryan says, because it's probably not so much the fee as the association with the royal family. He doesn't know entirely what all Alex's crew get up to most of the time, but if they call themselves pirates and Urie and Valdes even _considered_ approaching them, it can't be all that noble and pure. And probably anyone wanting to hire on smugglers or hired guns isn't going to be big on the idea of working with a crew that has personal ties to him. Ryan rubs his eyes. "Well, we're still negotiating, but you should at least get - adequate compensation from this. I'll. Let me talk to some people. It might have to wait a while, though."

"Right," Sam says. "No, yeah, you're pretty busy."

"Seriously, don't worry about it," Darren says. "I was just saying."

"It's okay," Ryan says. "It's cool, don't worry. Just. Maybe remind me."

Sam nods, and Ryan figures that settles that. He doesn't actually know what he hopes to achieve, but he'll at least talk to some people and see if someone who's thinking a little more clearly can come up with something, the proper angle to use or whatever.

\---

Eventually, things wind down - a little earlier than a typical reception at the palace, but it makes sense since this is in mourning instead of celebration. Probably Ryan will have to put up with the whole thing again after the coronation, and again at the banquet, and. There are going to be about a million different dinners and parties, on top of the meetings he has to have in the daytime and all the paperwork he'll need to look over.

He says his goodbyes and good nights, and ducks out as soon as it's socially acceptable, heading back to his rooms. Alex has found the television, and is sitting cross-legged on Ryan's bed watching some ridiculous serial drama about an interstellar police force.

He looks up when Ryan comes in, offering up a smile, and Ryan tries to smile back. Judging by Alex's brief flash of concern, he must not do a great job.

"Hey, c'mere," Alex says, so Ryan kicks off his shoes and sits next to Alex, knees drawn up to his chest. He leans his head on Alex's shoulder.

"So what injustice are they fighting today?"

"Oh, there's a criminal ring using these weird little rodent things from Yavin IV as, like. Spies? Or something? See, look, they put little cameras on their heads, I don't really get it -" Alex points at the screen, and tries to explain the plot. Ryan probably has even less chance of figuring out the story than Alex, since he's missed so much, but he sits and listens to Alex's attempts at explanation anyway because it's better than thinking about anything else.

It's actually playing a marathon of the show, and eventually they get into bed properly and keep watching. Ryan turns it off when Alex falls asleep, and lies down next to him, trying to take comfort in Alex's warmth and not let himself think too much about the events of the day. It doesn't work, though, and after almost two hours of staring helplessly at the ceiling, Ryan sits up and picks up his electronic reader from the bedside table, thumbing the screen onto a dim glow and sitting cross-legged bent over it to read some of the papers he needs to catch up on.

Alex stirs about an hour later, and Ryan tilts the light away from him, but he wakes up anyway. The bed shifts as Alex sits up, and Ryan smiles without looking up. Alex kisses his neck, warm and sleepy.

"You need to get some rest," Alex mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"Yes," Ryan agrees. He lets Alex fumble the reader out of his hands and put it on the other side of the bed, and then he lies back down and goes back to watching the ceiling until dawn.

\---

After the funeral, things kick into high gear with the planning for the coronation. A lot of it is already set out -- there are certain traditions that get followed every time, and it doesn't need as much personal modification as a funeral does, but there's also tricky territory to navigate because of the somewhat dubious status of Ryan as a full heir. Mostly that just means trying not to seem too arrogant and presumptive to the general public, who might then decide to get behind the possibilities of other people taking up the succession.

Ryan has his first proper interview the day before the coronation, two days after his father's funeral. He's instructed to be forthcoming, but not provide too much detail about his kidnapping. "You're not trying to appeal to tabloid readers," his media adviser instructs him, "we don't want any sob stories," and Ryan nods obediently and thinks a little wistfully about going in there and being a complete asshole until all his citizens are demanding that someone take his place.

Probably people don't care very much about ex-heir to the thrones running off to hang out with a bunch of pirates.

The journalist, at least, is someone he's been interviewed by before, and he used to be part of the palace press corps before he landed a better deal. Or at least a somewhat less harried one, as far as Ryan can tell.

"Hey, Ryland," he says, when he goes in to meet him, and Ryland stands up and shakes his hand. "How's it going?"

"Fine, thank you, Your Highness," Ryland says. "How are you today?"

"Wide awake," Ryan tells him, because it's the most honest answer. It's early enough that the lack of sleep hasn't caught up with Ryan yet.

"I just wanted to say," Ryland says, looking somewhat embarrassed, "that -- I'm sure you've heard it a million times by now, but I'm so sorry about His Majesty."

"Thank you," Ryan says. "I appreciate it." He sits down, reaching for the cup of hot coffee someone's left for him. "Shall we get started?"

Ryland asks mostly pre-approved questions, the somewhat wry smile lingering in the corner of his mouth suggesting that he knows how ridiculous this is, but Ryan tries to answer as honestly and interestingly as possible. He likes Ryland, he doesn't want to be a douche; he hopes Ryland can get something that will make him feel this is more than a cursory "first interview since the Prince's return" thing.

It's only in the almost-small talk (though Ryan's all too aware that they're still on the record) as they're wrapping up that Ryland throws Ryan off a little. "The crew who rescued you," he says. "There's been reports you spend a lot of time with them."

"I -- yes," Ryan says. "Yes, I have been, I suppose. As much as my schedule allows."

"Gratitude?" Ryland asks. "Or did you bond as they were nursing you back to health?"

Ryan smiles a little awkwardly. "Well, I wouldn't call it that," he says. "But they're good people, certainly. I've -- I would consider each of them to be a friend."

It feels stilted and ridiculous, saying that, but Ryland just nods and shakes his hand again.

\---

The article is published quicker than Ryan would have expected, but he figures that the most important interview of the week - or most anticipated, at least - deserves priority over local trade disputes and the senate of a minor planet taking an unplanned break. Ryan takes note of that one just in case it means anything, but for now he's looking over his own interview and trying to imagine how it'll sound to the public.

The next few days blur together a bit, and Ryan has to go into seclusion or whatever the day before coronation anyway, thanks to a millennia-old tradition. He has a few long earnest talks with a minister, and takes more ritual baths with ritual salts and incense than he really cares to think about, and then it's the day of.

The whole thing leaves him feeling a bit dreamy and dazed, and, he figures, explains a lot about his father's coronation. He'd sort of thought, from videos of the day, that his father had been drunk even then.

But no, Ryan is dizzy, left a bit unsteady - all he really manages to think about are the things he's meant to do and say.

And then his aunt's husband raises his voice in the moment of hushed silence before the crown - not that Ryan will really have to wear it again, but it's ritual, so - is placed on Ryan's head.

"You!" The man calls out. "Impostor to the throne!"

Ryan jerks his head up and stares.

Security are already moving forward, but Ryan meets the man's eyes -- fuck, why can't he remember his name -- as he spits, staring at Ryan with what looks like genuine hatred, "You're a liar and a cheat and you have defiled the sacred laws of this monarchy -- no, the people will speak! -- stop!" and he's being dragged away. Ryan's aunt looks horrified, but some other security guys give her a look and she is quietly and quickly escorted from the room, along with Ryan's cousin.

For a minute, everyone is silent. Ryan thinks that now would be a good time to have something wry and self-deprecating and regal all at the same time to say, but his mind is blank. After an interminably long moment, the presiding minister -- the same guy who metaphorically buried Ryan's father three days ago -- clears his throat and goes on with the ceremony, but the reverent hush of the coronation is ruined. Ryan can feel, already, the growing urgency of the crowd to whisper and gossip and discuss what this means for them personally with all of their staff.

When he's finally led away to resounding applause, he grabs Spencer by the arm and drags him into a room. They've only got about ten minutes before Ryan has to make his official appearance to the public, but that will have to do.

"What the _hell_?" Ryan says.

"I know," Spencer says, grim-faced. "Fucking Christ. We've got him locked up, but apparently being an international embarrassment isn't a crime."

"What the fuck did he think it was going to achieve?" Ryan stares at Spencer.

Spencer looks away. "It's a statement," he says, after a moment, speaking very carefully. "It's going to get everyone talking. And he's told us he's planning to sue for the crown."

"Sue for the -- for himself?"

"No," Spencer says, "for his stepson."

"He was found unfit years and years ago," Ryan says. "Goddamnit, that's just another way for that fucking asshole to rule, with that kid doing whatever he says."

"I know," Spencer says. "But he's going to appeal by saying that you and your father orchestrated that ruling illegally or some shit. I -- I'm almost entirely sure we'll win, but it's not good."

"I know it's not good," Ryan says. He rakes his hands through his hair, almost dislodging the unfamiliar crown in the process. " _Fuck_."

"Just carry on as planned today," Spencer says. "If anyone brings it up--"

" _If_ ," Ryan scoffs.

"--laugh it off," Spencer continues. "Don't be afraid to imply that he's crazy. Remind them of that scandal the son caused in his first public outing, when. When he got scared by the press."

"That's a bit unfair," Ryan says, making a face. "He was twelve. And, you know. He's not—"

"I know he's ill," Spencer says. "But you're the Prince Regent now, and that guy's going to do his very best to dethrone you unless we remind everyone, including the Grand Jury, why that kid is a terrifying choice. Even if for whatever reason they manage to put your legality in doubt, which is, you know, _ridiculous_ , but."

"But," Ryan agrees.

Spencer sighs. "I'm -- fuck, I'm sorry this happened. I'm sorry, Ryan."

"Hey," Ryan says, a little surprised. "Look, no, it's not your fault." Spencer looks sort of miserable, and Ryan steps forward to wrap him in a hug, holding on first for Spencer and then for himself, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He's really not looking forward to this afternoon.

"The thing is everyone loves you right now," Spencer mumbles. "Like, you were missing presumed possibly-dead for a month, there's nothing like that to get a public all sentimental. It's just -- not what any of us need right now."

"Yeah," Ryan says.

Spencer breathes out. "Off you go, Majesty," he says, smiling a little crookedly and giving Ryan a gentle push. "Your people await."

\---

"You have a crown," Alex says, laughing.

"That I never have to wear again." Ryan takes it off, setting it on his dressing table. Technically, it'll need to be put away properly at some point. He imagines that can wait for a little while. Right now, he's got an Alex.

Ryan has to admit, he's sort of liking - inaugurating himself by way of a secret affair or whatever. He knows, sooner or later, that Alex will leave and his bed'll be empty for a while, and eventually he'll find someone - either nobility or some senator's son or daughter, and his staff will vet them and deem them worthy, and at some point he'll get married and hopefully have his own heirs. As long as everything works out, of course, but Ryan's kind of trying not to think about if things don't go right.

Not that he'd mind, much, not being the Prince Regent. He'd rather enjoy it, really, but if he steps aside, then right now it'd go to his cousin, and that's really not okay on a number of levels. There are any number of people who would be disappointed, too.

But.

Alex has picked up the crown and set it on his own head, laughing.

"Oh my god," Ryan says, snatching it away from him, though he's trying not to laugh himself. "That's, come on. You have to afford the position the honor it deserves. You can't just."

"When else am I going to get to play with national treasures?"

"Hey." Ryan lifts his chin, gesturing to himself. "Whenever. Come on. I'm far more valuable."

Alex throws his head back laughing. "Of course you are."

Ryan steps forward, then, taking the opportunity to kiss Alex's neck, his hands already insistent at the hem of Alex's shirt.

Alex tilts his head sideways to make it even easier for Ryan to mouth at the skin there, and he sort of shudders once under Ryan's touch. He pulls away long enough to pull off his shirt, jacket long since hung over a chair. "Well," he says, pressing his mouth against Ryan's for a brief moment before continuing. "Welcome back, your majesty."

"Welcome back?" Ryan asks, eyebrows raised.

"Shut up, it sounded good."

"You can't tell me to shut up," Ryan laughs, dragging Alex back toward the bed and sitting back down, legs open so Alex can stand in front of him, leaning down. "I'm the fucking prince regent -- at least for now, anyway. Come on."

"I'm honored, really." Alex beams at him. "And hey - whatever happens, as long as there isn't a - a bloody coup or whatever, you'll be okay, right?"

"Oh, right, remind me of the possibility of a bloody coup, that's really. That's great pillow talk, _Captain Greenwald_."

"I'm just saying." Alex raises his eyebrows. "Don't die or anything."

"Oh, alright," Ryan says. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Thanks," Alex says, leaning down to kiss Ryan, a little too brief for Ryan to be entirely pleased. "I appreciate it, man."

"Well, you know, I was considering it," Ryan says, "but if you're that against it. I am a benevolent monarch."

"I voted for you," Alex agrees cheerfully, pushing Ryan backwards.

Ryan lets him, laughing. "What," he says, "what, that's not even possible, you douche. You -- I am appointed by God given right, okay, my birth was a matter of divine intervention—"

"Oh my god," Alex says. "Shut up. You're such an asshole, oh my god."

"I could have you arrested," Ryan says haughtily. "I am extremely busy and important but I would make time to have you executed for treason."

" _Such_ an asshole," Alex repeats, and kisses Ryan stupid and messy, pressing Ryan down into the blankets, fingers deft on Ryan's belt, until Ryan's almost forgotten what they were talking about when Alex laughs between kisses and says, "I have no idea why I like you so much."

\---

"He's not seriously going to sue you, is he?" Z looks flabbergasted. "Is he allowed to do that?"

"Yeah," Tennessee says, frowning. "Can't you just have him thrown in jail or something?"

"I suggested that," Alex says helpfully.

"You've all been incredibly insightful," Ryan agrees. "But, you know, constitutional monarchy, so."

"Doesn't that mean you answer to us?" Darren says. "Dude, we're telling you to arrest him."

"I wish you were my Prime Minister," Ryan says. Darren laughs.

"Seriously," Z says. "What's going to happen?"

"Testifying in front of parliament and a Grand Jury," Ryan says. "Then they decide. I don't know how much parliament has to do with it, it's all kind of confusing, but you know. Basically we present our arguments and our evidence and they make a ruling. It's going to happen as quickly as possible, I think, everyone's really keen to have someone running the country again."

"And you're going to win, right," Jeff says.

"Um," Ryan says. "Hopefully."

"That's ridiculous."

"I know," Ryan says. "I'm -- my advisers are pretty confident. But it's still kind of fucked up."

"Just for the record," Alex says, very earnestly, "you're prettier than the other dude."

"I should present that to the jury," Ryan says. "Tell them I've got it on good opinion."

"Considering who would look better on their currency is a very important part of the process," Alex says.

\---

The coming days are ridiculous enough, without the added concerns of preparing a legal defense for Ryan's legitimacy. This succession was never going to be an easy one, but at the least it could have gone a _little_ smoother - possibly if Ryan had just come home on time.

"Sometimes," Ryan tells Spencer, "I wonder if - like, if I'd been here, if people hadn't thought I might be dead, if he'd still."

Spencer says, "There's no way of knowing, and anyway, that's - I don't mean to be harsh or anything, but it's the past, and it's done. You've got to deal with what's going on now instead of thinking about what could have happened."

"Yeah," Ryan agrees. "Meeting with the delegation from Celaeno is today, right?"

"Yes, sir," Spencer says. "And you've got some legislation to approve. Another statute banning in-system trade of wildlife from Alcyone II, some scientific funding, a few others. Look it over. They've already gone through senate, and there's nothing too controversial."

"Awesome," Ryan says, rubbing at his brow. "I'm still going to need to know the details, aren't I?"

"Probably."

"Thanks, Spence," Ryan says. "You're dismissed. Go get yourself some lunch."

"You're not coming?"

"I might be along." Ryan shrugs, then rolls his shoulders again a few times to try and release only just-noticed tension. "Maybe. I just - there's a lot."

"Yeah." Spencer says, "You still have to take care of yourself."

"I know."

\---

Ryan doesn't actually realize what he's getting dressed for until Alex knocks on the door and comes in looking kind of ill. "Hey," Ryan says, surprised. "Are you okay?"

"Do we have to do this?" Alex says plaintively. "Can't you just shake my hand for some cameras or something?"

"Do what?" Ryan asks.

Alex blinks at him. "You're not serious."

Ryan frowns. "What have I got on tonight?"

"I hate you," Alex says, flopping back on Ryan's bed with a groan, and it's only then that Ryan notices Alex is all dressed up, too.

"Oh, hey," he says. "Is it your thing?"

"My thing would be not doing this."

Ryan walks over to kick at Alex's ankle while he does up his tie, grinning down at Alex. "C'mon. You're a big damn hero."

"All I wanted to be was an immoral kidnapper," Alex says, staring up at Ryan. "You've ruined my life."

"You deserve a banquet in your honor," Ryan says. "I don't know what you're mad about, this'll be fun."

"Fun."

"Compared to all the other boring shit I've sat through for the past week," Ryan says, nodding. "It'll be easy."

"Everyone's going to be looking at me."

"You've got a crew, too," Ryan says. "Some people might notice them, I don't know. Not that I'd want to take away from your all important vision of yourself as reigning big damn hero."

" _Ryan_."

"I'm looking forward to this," Ryan says, wandering back to the mirror to check his collar his straight. "You're sitting next to me, right? That means the Ambassador of Darreth can't corner me again and breathe all over me."

"Is the Ambassador of Darreth going to be there?" Alex asks.

"He follows me," Ryan says dourly. "He's everywhere. He's summoned by his name. Or by joy."

Alex laughs at that, and Ryan smiles at him. He wants to make out with Alex, and even kisses him, for a moment, before realizing the time and the fact that they're _both_ well-dressed, for once, and he sighs and pulls away. "Right, so. Time to go. Or, well, for you to go. I'll be along in a bit. You go through the, you know. The back ways."

"I do," Alex says, waggling his eyebrows, and Ryan laughs a little. "Yeah, though, all right. I'll - this is incredibly stupid, but I'll do it."

"Thanks," Ryan says. "It'd look bad if you skipped out or anything."

"Which is what matters."

"Alex -"

"Sorry," Alex says. "Don't worry. I can handle one dinner, I'm sure."

\---

Ryan waits a little, honestly grateful to have a moment to himself to just sort of sit and not do anything. His hair's in order, he's dressed, he's vaguely hungry - he's _so ready_ for this banquet, and will even be able to tolerate the sort of after party, mingling with the guests, because there'll be an excuse to have Alex at his side all night even if they obviously can't do anything.

There's a knock on his door, which he supposes must be a servant sent to fetch him, so Ryan gets up.

A servant stands there, sure, but so do Spencer and the press secretary.

"Spencer," Ryan says, because the looks he's getting from both Spencer and Guy Ripley are a little disconcerting. He's almost looking forward to this banquet, now that he's remembered it, but they're dampening his mood a bit already. "What?"

"Your highness," press secretary Guy Ripley says, sounding put upon. "I _do_ wish you would at least try being a little more discreet."

"What?" Ryan asks again.

"Here," Spencer says, handing him a folder as they start down the hall. "Have fun."

Ryan is used to seeing himself in photos, posed _and_ candid, but seeing himself with Alex is a little less familiar. He hardly recognizes the smile on his face, isn't used to looking _actually_ happy in most of his pictures. It's a good look on him.

Except how the next picture, he's looking stupidly delighted while whispering in Alex's ear, and all of this so soon after his father's funeral, and he can sort of see where this is going. A vague shot, that could have been faked, of Alex's knuckles tapping against his knee under a table; one of Alex leaning down a little, mouth open to say something, hand not shown but probably somewhere near the small of Ryan's back.

Ryan hadn't even realized they'd been in public for there to be this many pictures. It's only ten in all, but still, it's - worrying, sort of. Ryan's been known to have ill advised affair, but one hot on the heels of his pseudo-kidnapping with his father dead so recently is going to look terrible.

"Fuck," Ryan declares vehemently.

"Yes, well, that's sort of the problem, isn't it?" Guy Ripley asks, then stops himself. "Pardon me, your highness, I didn't mean to imply -"

"It's fine, it's fine," Ryan says, waving a hand. "I mean, it's not, and don't do that again, but. Comparatively, it's fine. Is there, have these been published yet?"

"They're about to be," Guy Ripley says.

"Your dear aunt's husband has the rights," Spencer says. "And has a deal with one of the bigger magazines."

"Of course he does," Ryan sighs. He shakes his head. "Of course."

Ryan draws in a breath. "Okay, well. How are we gonna play this?"

"The trouble," Spencer says tightly, "is that it calls into question timelines around your rescue, too, and--"

"No," Ryan says, chest fluttering with sudden panic. If kidnapping charges get laid -- anyway, Ryan's not going to let it happen. "Look, can't we just. Say it's tabloids screwing with stuff to their own liking. It's not like we're being -- that obvious, and. Can't we?"

"Your Majesty," Guy Ripley says, mouth drawing into a thin line of disapproval. He flips open the folder again and leafs through to the sixth image, the one of Ryan leaning against a wall while Alex, face absent, leans forward to brush hair out of Ryan's eyes. "Forgive me if I think that implying your general public is stupid is not a good idea."

Ryan breathes out in a huff. "Fine." He rubs his face with his hands, and Spencer makes an irritated noise and reaches to fix Ryan's hair. "Has anyone talked to Alex yet?"

"I sent someone to his rooms to bring him to meet with us," Guy Ripley says. "Astonishingly, he was not there."

Ryan makes a face.

" _Ryan_ ," Spencer says.

"He would have been there in a minute," Ryan says defensively. "Okay, look. People at -- at this thing, are they going to know?"

"Nothing's public yet," Guy Ripley says. "If they have access to information -- maybe. But they will probably not be so uncouth as to bring it up, in that case."

"Good," Ryan says. "No one say anything to Alex about it yet. I'll deal with this later."

Spencer bites his lip. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"He's nervous about this," Ryan says. "We don't need to add more crap to that just yet."

"Prince Ryan," Guy says. "I _urge_ you to be discreet tonight--"

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Ryan says, and smiles brilliantly over his shoulder at them as the herald announces him and he walks into the grand ballroom.

\---

The whole room rises when Ryan walks in, and Ryan nods at various people and waves at others because it's a cheerful sort of event that isn't steeped in thousands of years of ceremony. When he gets to his seat in the middle of the round main table, he says, "Let's save speeches for after dinner, shall we," and there's some appreciative laughter as everyone sits down again.

Ryan's got Alex on his right and Spencer on his left and the rest of the crew ranged around the table, looking varying degrees of comfortable in their formal clothes. "Well," he says, smiling crookedly. "Hello, all."

"Sup," Z says, saluting him with her glass of champagne.

Ryan darts a glance at Alex, feeling stupidly self-conscious, almost shy. "Has Captain Greenwald thrown up yet?" he asks.

"There was a near miss when we were being led in past all the dignitaries," Darren reports cheerfully.

"I think you're being very silly, Alex," Tennessee says. "You love showing off."

"Not to people who want to lock me up," Alex says glumly. Ryan smiles quickly at him, and Alex gives Ryan a rather desperate look.

It almost makes Ryan jump when Alex curls his hand just above Ryan's knee under the table. He thinks about the photo like this in Guy Ripley's little collection, and how it could have been faked, but might not have been. He thinks about the sensible thing to do, and then he lets his hand fall into his lap and moves it to press against Alex's, reassuring as he can make it.

Alex smiles at him, hair falling in his eyes, and Ryan looks away.

As soon as the first course is served -- "I hope they remembered to tell all of you the ridiculous amounts of food being served tonight?" -- Ryan reclaims his hand. He considers trying to point out the cameras in some way, but can't really think of a decent way to do it and hopes Alex will figure it out on his own, even without knowing the - situation or whatever.

He does sort of move his knee, though, ever so slightly, a careful reminder anyway, and Alex gets that hint. Thankfully, no one's started eating yet, so it's not as if it's a terribly belated gesture. Then again, by now, anything Ryan does is probably belated.

He doesn't even know how the paparazzi _got_ some of those pictures, because he figures that's who it had to have been, not any of the approved and fully vetted photographers nor anyone on staff. He _hopes_ it wasn't someone on staff leaking things, because he does at least realize that there are probably a few others who have figured it out but know better than to comment.

The crew from Andare II, for example, even though they're not here. The royal guard _should_ all be loyal, and it's not like - like Ryan is so paranoid as to think any of them are somehow here and plotting against him or anything, clearly they didn't take any of the photographs, but if they decide to speak up after the pictures leak.

After the appetizer, there's soup, and then there's a salad, and Jeff seems a bit baffled - "Are we seriously going to have dessert after this?"

"Well, there are still four courses left," Ryan explains cheerfully. "One of those is probably dessert, but - yes, basically."

"This is ridiculous." Z laughs.

"Well, I hope you're at least enjoying it," Ryan says. "Apparently - Spencer, what was it you were saying?"

"The head chef was really angry when I had to explain to him that he couldn't even prepare a seafood course," Spencer says. "He kept asking if he could prepare something else for the rest of the diners and just give the captain something else."

Alex blinks. "What, really? Seriously, if it was that much trouble, I would have been fine with whatever."

"It would have made the pictures look strange," Ryan says, whispering theatrically but not leaning any closer to Alex to say it. He hardly looks at Alex, really, which probably is strange in its own right. He's trying to think, if there are ways he can spin the story, if he can beat the media publishing it and declare something himself. "If you had something different."

Maybe, he thinks, the timeline - it's still bad, but not _as_ bad, if he explains how - how he and Alex were locked up together, which isn't far from the truth, and. He should be thinking of running this all by Spencer, too, he's well aware. Maybe if they have a moment, before the speech.

He can think of a few ways to rewrite history, and they may not be the most flattering, but they're better than the alternative and better than being overthrown two weeks into his reign as regent. The problem is, there are probably a few things he should be asking _Alex_ right now, but he doesn't want to engage in any whispering, nor take the captain anywhere private. Or, he _wants_ to, but knows better because it may well make any ideas of his look unplanned. Maybe not, maybe it'll look intentional, but Ryan is thinking hard and paranoid.

The champagne may be contributing a little to his belief that he should just - add more detail than has been given to the press so far, embellish things a little. The public does love a good romance.

Spencer, though, hates surprises.

\---

"My god," Darren says, wonderingly. "They just don't get tired of making food down in those kitchens of yours, do they?"

"They'd probably be executed if they did," Ryan says, only just remembering to swallow before he speaks.

The crew stares at him, and Spencer covers his face with his palm. Ryan starts laughing.

"Joking voice, come on, guys. Guys." Ryan pauses. "I wouldn't really - come on, you know I wouldn't have anyone executed. Not even cooks who needed to nap. I'm benevolent."

"Clearly," Tennessee says.

"I am all about -- saving lives," Ryan says. "Through my wisdom."

"Oh, really," Z says, voice thick with amusement. "How do you manage that?"

"Oh, you know," Ryan says. "I can make speeches and stuff." He darts a look at Spencer.

Spencer blinks politely back at him, and then his face clears and he leans forward on his elbows. "How's that help?"

"Beats people to the punch," Ryan says.

"Metaphorically?" Z sounds confused.

"Any real idea," Spencer says, "what--"

"Some small version of the truth," Ryan says. "Makes it look deliberate, rather than a monumental fuck up."

"Does anyone have any idea what they're talking about?" Jeff asks.

"Very important state business," Ryan says, smiling around at the table. "In military code."

"I hear military code's high on the expletives these days," Alex says, nodding.

"Yup," Ryan says. "Also internet acronyms. There was a missile order a few years ago called Operation LOL."

"Man, military operation names are messed up anyway," Darren says. "Seriously, they weird me out."

"I don't think you should say that stuff here," Jeff says, looking nervously around him. "The military are the ones keeping us from getting shot. Right?"

"There are thousands of assassins clamouring to be let in to kill you," Ryan says, very seriously. "The entire army's camped out on our doorstep keeping them away."

He looks at Spencer. Spencer nods.

\---

Ryan drinks another two glasses of champagne rather quickly in the lead-up to the speeches. He's nervous even though he shouldn't be, and he wishes he could get Alex away and check with him, or at least warn him, but. Alex isn't going to be able to follow a disguised conversation without Ryan explaining outright, and he's all too aware that it's very easy for people to listen in here. The brief dialogue with Spencer was cutting it close.

Traditionally, royalty speaks last -- and longest, and to greater applause -- so Ryan gets to sit through all the other speeches still trying to come up with the best text in his head to complement the rest of the speech he already has. Something simple, he thinks, but not coy. He really doesn't want to mess too much with public reaction, and generally he gets polled as too arrogant too frequently. Now isn't the time to play into that.

The Minister of State speaks, general clichés about how it is times of darkness that people shine brightest, and then one of the generals, the friendliest one, Ryan notices. He's self-deprecating and surprisingly amusing, and even makes a (checked and officially approved, Ryan has no doubt) joke about a crew of slightly dubious freelancers stepping in where one of the universe's greatest military forces failed.

Alex stands up next, and Ryan is nervous for another reason, because Alex has seemed so weirded out and unhappy with all the proceedings tonight, but Alex speaks warm and easy, like the press conference. Ryan would never have guessed he was freaked. Alex talks eloquently and amusingly about a false set of events, how funny it is to look up in your cell and notice the Crown Prince sitting in the one next to you, about what a strange and lovely thing nationalistic pride is when you're able to do something concrete for your country. He thanks the palace, too, for its hospitality, and then he turns a little to Ryan with a slightly weird smile and says, "It's strange to have anything thrown in your honor, but especially when you feel like you're the lucky one."

Applause is fairly thunderous. Ryan works not to duck his head, to smile, because people will be watching this moment, probably filming it.

There's an expectant hush when Alex sits down again. Ryan's glad, because it means Alex can't lean in and say anything, and Ryan will be able to say later he didn't have the chance to warn for anything or even apologise under the sound of applause. Instead he swallows, feeling a little dizzy, and stands up. Everyone's watching him, but Ryan chooses to focus on Spencer for a moment, whose gaze is steady and knowing and trusting all the same. Ryan's got this. He's almost sure.

"The trouble with occasions such as this," Ryan says, "is that everyone gets to give these brilliant speeches and I have to sit here and try and not look too sheepish about how much trouble everyone went to."

There's a murmur of laughter, and Ryan goes on with his already prepared speech. It's pretty standard stuff; talking briefly about how it felt to be wrenched away from his home, about the kind of blank despair at being asked to do terrible things in return for his own safety. They'd rewritten parts of the speech after Ryan's uncle brought the case forward, trying to get more sympathy. Ryan almost doesn't need the prompter running along in the back, he knows this speech well enough.

It starts prompting for the conclusion. Ryan takes in a deep breath and looks away.

"Getting rescued is always great," Ryan says, "no matter what kind of rescue it is. For me, personally, it has always created some sense of a bond, no matter how fleeting." He tries to keep standing easy, not to clutch at anything no matter how close he feels to shaking. "But I feel that this time, at the time when I needed it most, my rescuers somehow came to be people of like mind and generous soul." He looks around the table for a moment, but he feels embarrassed and self-conscious and can't really hold any of their gazes. He looks across the room again. "I have had a lucky life. In some ways, I have had a lucky kidnapping. But I have always counted myself luckiest in the people I get to have around me, and now, I, I feel like I have found some of the truest friends I could. People who have wound their way into my, my life, and my heart."

He darts a look at Spencer. Spencer gives him a tiny, imperceptible nod.

Ryan smiles at his audience. "I intend to hold onto them," he says, and puts his hand on Alex's shoulder, and leans down to kiss him.

Alex is practically frozen against him, but Ryan doesn't need long, and he tilts his head in a way that will hopefully obscure Alex's wide open eyes and still face. He breaks away, straightens, smiles, bows, and sits down again.

There is belated applause. Ryan's table is staring at him.

Spencer says, "Nicely handled."

"Thank you," Ryan says, trying not to move his lips too much. "How long until we can leave?"

"I'll hurry things up," Spencer says, and nods to an attendant in the corner of the room.

There's about ten minutes for the room to settle down again, and then the attendant steps forward and announces that refreshments will be served in the next room, should anyone still be hungry. It's a dismissal, even though most people won't go for hours; it means, in any case, that Ryan doesn't _have_ to be there. It would be good politics to have him there, mingling, but Ryan thinks they can skip that tonight. His security detail appears at his shoulders, and Ryan stands, waves goodnight to the room, and goes to wait in the closest conference room.

Spencer comes in first, with Guy Ripley. "Okay, well done," Spencer says. "All things considered, that could have gone a lot worse."

"Nobody threw anything," Ryan says. "And Alex didn't punch me." His stomach twists a little, because Alex hasn't looked at him since, but he tries to meet Spencer's sympathetic look with a smile.

"This is what you hear when I say 'discreet'," Guy says.

"What choice did I have?" Ryan snaps.

"This is a good thing," Spencer says. "We control the story."

"I know it's a good thing," Guy Ripley says. "Nevertheless, it was very alarming. You are a startling young man, Your Majesty."

"Um," Ryan says. "Thanks."

The door opens again. Ryan looks up, and goes still. Alex's face is completely blank, and he says, "I'd like to speak to you alone, if I could, Ryan."

Guy Ripley opens his mouth. Spencer pinches him, and says, "Of course, Captain Greenwald. We'll be out of your way."

"Thank you," Alex says, and stands aside so they can leave.

"Alex," Ryan says, when the door clicks shut.

"What the fuck was that," Alex says, and his voice is perfectly level.

"There's pictures of us," Ryan says. He grabs the folder and comes around the table quickly, pushing it at Alex. "The tabloids are printing them tomorrow, probably. I'm sorry. I only found out about it on the way over, or I would have talked to you about it--"

"Yeah?" Alex says, ignoring the folder. "And what if I'd said I didn't want you to do it, say all that stuff and then -- what if I'd said that, then you would have--"

"Alex, the photos are out," Ryan says. "I can't help that. I wouldn't have let it happen, if I had a choice."

"You had a choice about confirming it!" Alex shouts. "You had a choice about making a grand fucking statement in front of hundreds of people because your _adviser_ told you to."

"I didn't have a chance to talk about it with anyone," Ryan says, "I told you."

"Bullshit," Alex says. "That's what that little conversation with Spencer was about. I'm the monumental fuck up."

"No," Ryan says, shaken, taking another step forward. "No, Alex, the photos--"

"Fuck you," Alex says. "Like I didn't know all this shit from the beginning."

"Know _what_?" Ryan stares at him.

"That I was in it for more than you," Alex says. It's weird, Ryan thinks numbly, Alex looking so angry. He hasn't seen that much anger directed at him before, not even when he got them kidnapped. Ryan doesn't know how to deal with it.

"I don't know what you mean," Ryan says.

"You're fucked up, you know that?" Alex's eyes are dark and furious, his arms folded across his chest. "Hey, man, at least this will go down in your biography in an appropriately dramatic yet classy manner. Let me know if I can do anything else to help."

He turns on his heel. "Alex," Ryan says, urgently, stepping forward to grab Alex's wrist, but Alex shakes him off.

" _Don't_ touch me," he says.

Ryan feels very stupid and young, just then, and supposes in a lot of ways that's probably a fair assessment. He says, "Alex, that's not what -"

But Alex storms out of the room, which probably won't look good. It's fucked up that Ryan's even thinking about that, but Alex had to be the one to bring it up.

Ryan sits down and tries to remember which candelabra needs pulling or pushing in this room to get him to the secret passages. Possibly this one doesn't have any other way out besides the window and the door. Ryan really can't remember, but he wants to disappear somewhere.

He wonders, vaguely, if he can talk to Z or someone; she seems most sympathetic and he knows her sort of second-best out of the crew. He isn't sure. He's also not sure what Alex plans to do just now, or if he thinks that far ahead or whatever.

"Your Majesty," Spencer says, carefully, from the doorway.

"Yeah?" Ryan asks, not looking up from fiddling with a tassel on the arm of his chair. It's a very ostentatious chair. This whole conference room is, and it annoys him a little.

Spencer steps in close, voice quiet. "There are servants making up your room now. The, ah. The captain was saying something about readying his ship for departure, though. Won't really be possible until tomorrow morning, but."

"Right," Ryan says. That puts a bit of a damper on things. Obviously the crew wasn't going to stick around all that long after the banquet, but - considering that little incident just now, Ryan feels a bit sick. Probably they wouldn't have left the day after, either.

Ryan kind of imagines Alex doesn't plan on goodbyes, for one.

And the other thing - "They're going to have a hell of a time finding work," he tells Spencer, oddly conscious of his own monotone delivery.

"Mmhm," Spencer agrees. "What just happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Apparently, Alex was the aforementioned colossal fuck-up," Ryan says. "And also I only, only liked him because it would. Look good in my biography."

"Ah," Spencer says.

"It's not like I thought our, whatever, thing would last that long," Ryan says. He annoys himself a little with how flat his voice sounds right now. "I just didn't think, you know."

"Well," Spencer says lightly. "At least you have the chance to talk to him without it looking too suspicious."

"He won't listen," Ryan decides, feeling inordinately certain, just from what he knows about Alex. "I don't really want to, uh. Go outside again right now. Do you think you can find Z?"

"We can find any of them," Spencer says. "In about five seconds flat, so sure." He pulls out his little portable communicator, taps out a message and waits a few seconds. "Aha, she's mingling. You want me to get her anyway?"

"Or Tennessee," Ryan says. "Whoever's least, like. Engaged."

"Right," Spencer nods, typing more, and gratefulness for the wonders of technology washes over Ryan. He doesn't particularly want to be alone.

In the meantime - "Spence, can you, I know it's a bit late. I kept meaning to ask about this, but maybe you can help get something written up, right."

"What?"

"They need - I mean, it's going to suck for them trying to find work." Ryan pauses, thinking. "Could we, maybe. Offer them a contract? Since no one's going to want to work with them if they're so closely associated with the royal family, and just, if they had official work to do they could keep on - you know, keep on doing what they do, only more legal."

"Ah, yeah," Spencer nods. "I'd been thinking about that, but." He laughs. "I didn't have the time. I thought they'd be around a little while and we could hash it out with the crew."

"Try, uh. Try not to let Alex know just yet, if that's possible, though," Ryan says. "I don't want him thinking I'm trying to - to, I don't know. Spence."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "Yeah, no, okay."

"Man, Spence." Ryan feels immensely grateful right now, having Spencer as his personal adviser. He likes that tradition an awful lot, having someone assigned at such a young age. "I just didn't want him to get executed, you know? I wasn't even thinking about if it would."

"I know," Spencer says.

Ryan needs to sort it out in his own head, though. "And I mean, a lot of it was about - my own image, and the upcoming trial. Obviously. I get that. But it was also. If they brought him up on conspiracy, and the kidnapping charges, and, probably treason and whatever. They'd call it seduction, claim the whole thing was just that much more immoral, maybe all of it was planned all along."

He pauses briefly. "Or else maybe that I'd been in on it from the start, if the crew of - of that space station, or that detachment of the royal guard, if they stepped forward, and someone would, obviously. Think it was their duty to crown and country or whatever. Then we'd _both_ get executed, probably."

"Yeah," Spencer says, with a dry laugh. "You know how to pick 'em."

"Shut up," Ryan says, and Spencer takes a respectful step back, head down. There's one thing Ryan isn't such a fan of, but whatever, fine, he can't get worked up over every little thing right now.

\---

 

"You wanted to speak to me, your majesty?" Z asks, her voice chilly.

"Hey, Z," Ryan says, trying to smile. He thinks he fails the attempt, but whatever.

"How could you," she starts, but he raises his hand. "What, are you going to ask how I can talk to a reigning monarch that way? Because right now, I don't really think that's all that important, compared to, you know, _loyalty_ and all, to my captain and my ship."

"Right," Ryan says.

"He really liked you, your _majesty_ ," she says. Ryan wouldn't have thought she'd be this mad at him too, but he can take it. He sits back, slumping a little into the chair and watching her. "And, he told me, at first, he thought this would be a bad idea because he knew he'd - but I thought you were okay and he wasn't giving you enough credit, okay? I thought _he_ wasn't giving you—" She cuts herself off with a laugh. "So look, whatever you're going to say, if it's just more attempts to spin a nice story for the press, then you can. Not say it."

"You can tell me to fuck off, if you want," Ryan says.

She looks at him condescendingly, huffing out another slight laugh. "Okay, then, so if you'd just kindly fuck off, your majesty." She curtsies deeply, giving him a bitter smile.

"I just wanted to. You know." Ryan shrugs. "Pass along a formal offer of employment."

"Seriously?" Z asks, eyebrows arching up.

"Seriously," Spencer says, and Z startles a little realizing he's still there.

"And also, uhm." Ryan stands up. "I get that, that you guys all hate me now, and that's - cool, I guess, whatever."

Ryan supposes that, as a monarch, it probably wasn't a good idea to have so many friends anyway. At least, not friends who weren't also on staff and trained to be ridiculously polite at all times; friends who hadn't been vetted seven ways to Sunday and gotten background checks and security clearance. Ryan could probably call some of his staff friends, but.

"Anyway, just, I wanted to - you don't have to pass it along. I guess. But if you wanted to, uh. Give Alex a message."

Z keeps her chin up, staring straight at him; whenever Ryan manages it, she's meeting his gaze, but mostly he has to look away.

"So, okay, the thing about all this is, it's not just - yeah, okay, if the photos got out, it'd probably call my legitimacy into question, and maybe, I don't know, it'd be pretty easy to come up with a version of events where I'd orchestrated everything and killed my father or whatever -"

Z laughs disdainfully. " _What_? Come on."

"It's kind of - convenient, right, me disappearing, me being sighted a couple times with your crew and then turning up again right, right when he—" Ryan has to stop for a minute, because thinking about it has his throat tight, which is _stupid_. He's the prince regent, now, and officially ruling over vast swaths of inherited territory. The borders have held mostly the same for three generations now, save for the occasional breakaway of a minor space station no one really cared about overmuch in the first place. He gathers himself, and goes on, because it's stupid that _now_ is the point when it all hits him. He's been fine, the past two weeks. Working hard and constantly, sort of tired, but _fine_. "So it's convenient, right, me disappearing right before my father's death."

Ryan prides himself in keeping his voice level this time. "And maybe it would be easy to say that I planned it that way, swooped in right when the nation would have the most sympathy. Maybe they'd say Alex manipulated me. Or, okay, if not that narrative, then it was _your_ plan all along, to kidnap me, have the captain seduce me, and - once the king, you know, died - and have that all. Have undue influence at my side or whatever."

Ryan shrugs. "Either way, or even if they came up with something else, it'd end up with Alex dead, and possibly me, as well, and I just." He ducks his head. "You can't blame me for not wanting him dead, can you?"

"Not if he's supposed to be the hero in this narrative of yours," Z says, her steadfast resolve wavering a little. She's watching Ryan more carefully now.

Ryan says, "I really like him, too, Z, and it was - I mean, even if the worst-case didn't play out, which. I'm going to be on trial, of _course_ it's going to be the worst. Even if they just brought him up on kidnapping or whatever. Or, even less than that, if they just. If it was just a secret affair, even that wouldn't be. Like. Fuck the narrative, okay, the kind of shit the tabloids _say_ , and - really, there's no way they wouldn't come up with all sorts of conspiracy bullshit. It wasn't, me saying that wasn't about my image, or whatever, it was about keeping him safe from all that. Mostly."

Z glances over at Spencer, who shrugs, then nods. She looks back at Ryan.

"I'll pass it along," she says, still not quite sympathetic, but closer to it, at least. "The coherent parts, at least."

Ryan manages a laugh. "Sorry. I usually manage to be a little more eloquent."

"It's all right," she says.

"I just - I meant it, too, everything I said," he adds, softly, as she's turning to take her leave. "About - being lucky and all. To have known you guys. But it's, you know. Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing," Ryan says, because he's pretty sure saying something about how it's cool if they don't want to be his friends now would just be _too_ pitiful. He's not trying to mine for pity right now. "Alex is lucky to have you as a friend, Z."

"Yeah," Z says. "If I can go now?"

"You may take your leave, or whatever, sure," Ryan says. He waits until she's left the room to stand up again. "Okay. So. Spencer. Do I - do I go back down there, or can I go to bed?"

"Either way," Spencer shrugs. "Bed's probably simpler, at this point."

"Awesome." Ryan almost wishes he were going to go back down and make small-talk, but he isn't sure what he'd say anymore, or how he'd explain Alex's absence. Probably just that Alex was a little overwhelmed by all the attention on him and wanted to retire early, maybe a wry grin or two at any raised eyebrows.

His bed will be a lot easier to deal with, even if he has to try and sleep in it alone. He doesn't imagine he _will_ sleep, really, but it's better than faking it in front of cameras and politicians.

\---

Ryan's stylist is pretty pissed at him the next morning, and spends about an hour trying to cover up the bags under his eyes, but Ryan feels oddly calm and serene again. If anything he's a little bit worried he's going to say something stupid on the first day of the trial just because he's not even thinking properly, because everything seems far away and very distant.

He has a little bit of time to spare before he's due to make his entrance, so he goes over to the crew's quarters, which are empty and already cleaned by all the staff. It means the sheets have been changed, but Ryan lies down on Alex's bed for a moment anyway, staring at the ceiling and trying to psych himself up into caring about the trial. He cared yesterday, he's almost sure.

Spencer comes and finds him, eventually, face pale and worried, and guides him down to a car that will take them to the State Courthouse. Spencer spends most of the car ride briefing Ryan again on the answers he's allowed to give, the things his lawyers have prepared; Ryan spends most of it staring out the window. His entrance is a lot of cameras going off and people shouting at him, questions about the trial and questions about last night and Ryan's great statement, and they've already worked out that Captain Greenwald's ship is gone, so they're shouting about that, too. Ryan stops to let them take a few photos of him in the doorway to the courthouse, and then he turns and walks inside.

He's the first called up to the stand. Usually royalty is the first or last, so this isn't particularly surprising, but Ryan digs his fingernails into his palm where no one can see, because he still feels spacey and weird and not ready to answer questions.

It starts off fairly simple. The prosecutor asks about his upbringing, his involvement in matters of state, what he was personally told about the line of succession. Ryan answers truthfully, and easily. The Grand Jury are sitting to his left, and Ryan looks at them often enough that they know he's speaking to them, not often enough that it looks like he's sucking up to them.

It's all fairly easy, really. Ryan knows politics very well. He is maybe not a natural at it, but he is acclimatised.

Then the prosecutor says, "Last night you announced your relationship with Captain Greenwald, Your Majesty."

"I did," Ryan agrees.

"Would you mind expanding on the nature of the relationship?"

"I do mind," Ryan says. "I don't see the relevance."

The prosecutor leans forward against the stand. He's trying to get all up in Ryan's face, but Ryan's sitting higher than him and so he has to look down politely at the lawyer and it doesn't work very well.

"Are you in love with Captain Greenwald?" the prosecutor asks.

"I still don't see the relevance of my own personal life to this case," Ryan says.

"Hmm," the prosecutor says. "Were you aware that Captain Greenwald and his crew left the capital very early this morning?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware that they left the planet?"

"Yes."

"Can you shed any light on why they chose to do so?"

"Captain Greenwald and his crew do not live off the goodwill of the palace," Ryan says. "They have jobs. They had work they had to get back to."

"On the day before the trial enquiring into whether you were fit to rule," the prosecutor says.

"Objection," Ryan's lawyer says, standing up. "The trial is enquiring into the legitimacy of the Prince Regent, not his suitability."

"Sustained," the judge says.

"My apologies," the prosecutor says. "Nevertheless, Your Majesty, don't you find it strange that they left immediately before the trial, and with such little notice?"

"Maybe they didn't give _you_ notice," Ryan says.

"How much notice did you have, Your Majesty?"

Ryan tries not to glare. "Some."

"On a timeframe, how much would you define as 'some'?"

Ryan breathes in. "I was told the day before. But I knew that they were going to have to leave at short notice all along. The whole point is that it was short notice."

"Right, well, that was a rather roundabout way of getting to that point," the prosecutor says. "Your Majesty, do you believe that there was any other motive beyond work that led them to leave so suddenly?"

"Like what?" Ryan says.

"Like wishing to escape being called upon to testify," the prosecutor says.

Ryan laughs. "What significance could they have?"

"A very great deal," the prosecutor says, "in illuminating the lead-up to and aftermath of King George II's death."

Ryan stares at him. "I don't believe that was their motive, no."

"You don't think it looks at all suspicious that, after a month-long disappearance, you returned only after the death of His Majesty, rather than even coming to see the king on his deathbed?"

Ryan sighs. "I was unaware of my father's condition until the news of his death was made public, since I was off-world at the time."

"Do you deny the possibility that you or someone on your staff may have suggested to Captain Greenwald and his crew that they leave before the trial was able to commence, your majesty?"

Ryan huffs out a laugh. "Yes, I deny that possibility. If you so desperately wanted to question them, why didn't you issue a subpoena?"

"Your Honor -"

\---

"Why didn't you issue a _subpoena_ ," Spencer says, a little incredulously over lunch while the court is in recess.

Ryan shrugs. "I mean. Really."

"The news of your relationship came out last night," Spencer says dryly. "He probably didn't have as much time to consider that part of his case."

"Yes, well," Ryan says. "That's not my fault."

Spencer rubs at his temples.

"You know." Ryan pauses, considering. "I wonder if -- if Captain Greenwald would have even been willing to testify in my favor, or if he'd have. God, never mind. It would have been nice if the questioning could have avoided that."

"Yes," Spencer says. "Yes, that would have been nice, wouldn't it?"

Ryan looks forward to this trial ending. He really does. It's only the first day, and he's tired of it.

\---

"Your Highness," the prosecution says on the second day, strolling back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back.

"It's Your Majesty now," Ryan says. "Actually."

"Of course," the prosecution says. "My apologies. Your Majesty, are you aware of what King George II died of?"

"Yes," Ryan says.

"The official press release said complications to do with the pneumonia he was suffering from at the time," the prosecutor says.

"Yes," Ryan says.

"But later documents," the prosecutor says, "have since raised implications that the King had drugs in his system at the time of his death."

"I believe there was some alcohol," Ryan says, carefully.

"Hmm," the prosecutor says. "Is that what you think of, when you hear the term 'drug'?"

"Alcohol is a drug," Ryan says. "Also caffeine."

"But is it what springs to mind," the prosecutor says.

"I'm sorry," Ryan says, "is this a court case or a game of word associations?"

"If you'll just let me ask the questions, Your Majesty," the prosecutor says. "Did it strike you as odd, that your father's autopsies had signs of alcohol in his blood?"

"No," Ryan says. "But I was a little busy at the time to be concerned with such particulars."

"Why is that?"

Ryan stares blankly at the prosecutor. "I was about to be crowned," he says, "and my dad died. It got a little daunting."

"Hmm," the prosecutor says. "Looking back on it now, does that strange note of your father's blood alcohol levels raise any suspicion in you?"

"Suspicion about what," Ryan says flatly.

"Foul play," the prosecutor says.

Ryan stares at him. The crowd is murmuring; the jurors look askance at one another.

"Your honor," Ryan's lawyer says, standing up, "I'd like to call for a break, if I may."

"If the case for the prosecution is amenable?" the judge asks.

The prosecutor nods, smirking a little. Ryan keeps staring, something close to hatred seething in him. The prosecutor bows to Ryan and walks away, and Ryan gets up and walks into the little adjoining room designated for him and his lawyers. He stands with his back to them until he hears the door click shut, and then he turns around and says, "When the _fuck_ did this turn into a murder trial?"

"When the fuck did you get turned into the defendant for a murder trial?" Spencer says, looking furious. "Suarez, what the _hell_."

"I know," Ryan's lawyer -- who, Ryan realized belatedly, is also called Alex, goddamnit -- says, shuffling through his notes. "They're playing foul." He looks up at Ryan. "Your Majesty, I urge you to bring Captain Greenwald and his crew back."

"What the hell?" Ryan says. "No, I'm." He takes a breath, trying to calm down, and looks at Spencer helplessly. "I can't do that."

"I believe it is the best way to shut down this line of inquiry immediately," Suarez says.

"Why's that?" Ryan asks, folding his arms, trying not to look too defensive. It's not like he doesn't want to see them, as much as. He tries really hard not to be selfish. He's not under any delusions, and any message that Z passed on clearly wasn't good enough.

"Because they're your alibi," Suarez says.

\---

Issuing the subpoena tacks another week onto the trial, which was already doomed to drag on a bit. It's two days to find Alex's ship, and then they're allowed five days to respond to the summons. Technically, theoretically, they could arrive before that - the courier ship they send out has about the same speeds as Alex's, and it's back quick enough.

Which leaves Ryan to wonder if they're going to ignore the subpoena entirely, especially as it gets within twenty four hours of when Alex is scheduled to appear on the witness stand. At this rate, there won't be any time to brief or prepare him at all.

The week is a bit awful, even with all the various outpourings of sympathy and support. What worries Ryan the most are the people he _isn't_ getting support from, various minor regional leaders who have always been a bit touchy, mostly from areas that haven't been under the kingdom's control for more than sixty years. Ryan thought most of those territories were pretty content under their current rule, but there are people in power who remember independence, and it's touchy, trying to negotiate and keep things level and calm.

Ryan wonders if the trial wouldn't be more tolerable if it weren't for how it's threatening the stability of his entire regency.

Ryan and his entourage - assorted staff, members of the legal team, his stylist, his security detail, Spencer, a caterer for some reason he can't work out - leave before Ryan gets word that Alex's ship has entered atmosphere.

There's an hour left. Even with expedited docking procedures, that's cutting it obnoxiously short. The landing area isn't _that_ close to the court house, and there's traffic, and security - they'll need to be patted down and scanned, every one of them.

Which means that this is the first time Ryan sees Alex after their fight, and, more importantly, means no one has time to do anything about Captain Greenwald's black eye.

Ryan can see his lawyer twitch, and then Suarez gives up on the urge not to cover his face with one hand. It would be a funnier gesture, Ryan thinks, if this trial hadn't just turned into even more of a farce than it already was. He's tempted to do the same, really.

It would help, maybe, if Alex was displaying any of the charm Ryan knows he's capable of. Instead, he slouches while he's reciting the oath, and sprawls back in his seat like he's watching a movie or something. Ryan is mildly concerned that Alex is about to put his feet up on the witness stand.

"Captain Greenwald," the prosecutor says. He looks like he's just gotten all his birthdays at once.

"Aye, aye," Alex says lazily.

"You're late," the prosecutor says.

"I think I just made it," Alex says.

"Mind if I ask what took you so long?"

"I do, a little," Alex says. When the judge clears her throat meaningfully at him, he sighs and says, "We were carrying out some business that needed to be completed."

"What business?"

"We keep our clients' work private."

"Forgive me, Captain Greenwald, for intruding on your private enterprise policies," the prosecutor says, "but you are testifying in front of a Grand Jury."

Alex sighs noisily. Ryan looks at Spencer with wide eyes. Spencer scribbles him a note that says _jesus christ did someone switch him with his asshole twin_. Ryan shrugs.

"It was a merger and acquisition deal," he says. "The client needed papers ferried across by a secure team who could verify the signings in person."

"Thank you," the prosecutor says. "Was it on this latest job that you got your black eye and split lip?"

"On the way," Alex says.

"Will you clarify, please?"

"It wasn't exactly on the job," Alex says.

"Where was it?"

"In a bar," Alex says.

"Oh my god," Suarez says weakly.

"We're doomed, right?" Spencer hisses. "This is what being doomed feels like."

"In a bar," the prosecutor repeats.

"Yes." Alex looks a little bored, gaze wandering around the room. He winks at one of the prettier members of the jury. Ryan gapes.

"How did it happen?"

"The usual way things happen," Alex says, waving a hand.

"Were you intoxicated at the time, Captain Greenwald?"

"Objection," Suarez says, standing up. "What relevance does this have?"

"I'll allow it," the judge says.

"I was a little tipsy," Alex says. "I wasn't drunk, if that's what you mean."

"How much alcohol had you imbibed?" the prosecutor asks.

"Look," Alex says, leaning forward confidentially, "I really don't need liquid courage, okay."

"Your _honor_ ," Suarez says.

"Very well," the judge says. "Case for the prosecution, proceed to your other lines of questioning. You may come back to this when you have proved its relevance in the context of your argument."

"Certainly, your honor," the prosecutor says. "Captain Greenwald, what can you tell us about your relationship with the Prince Regent?"

Alex's lazy expression disappears. "I don't know," he says, face blank. "What are you asking?"

"Do you have a relationship with him?"

"Everyone on my ship has a relationship with him," Alex says. "I believe he gave a very pretty speech about it."

Ryan takes the scrap of paper Spencer wrote the note on and writes one of his own, decorating it with curlicues and flowers and birds and things before shoving it back over to Spencer. Spencer covers up his choked-off laugh with a forced cough, at the cheery script reading _~*good night sweet prince*~_.

Ryan is trying pretty hard not to laugh himself, mostly at how very, very doomed he is.

"Are you implying," the prosecutor asks, with a barely restrained note of glee in his voice, "that the Prince Regent had intimate relations with the entirety of the crew?"

"Well, I mean, it depends how you define intimate," Alex says, yawning.

"Of course." The prosecutor turns, pacing a few steps before looking back to Alex. "Captain Greenwald. Would you mind telling me how old you are?"

Alex laughs. "Pardon?"

"Your age, Captain."

"Thirty," Alex says. "The big three-oh."

"Would you mind telling us where you were born?"

"I would," Alex says.

"And is there a reason for that?"

Alex shrugs, covering up another yawn. "Don't feel like it."

"Records indicate you attended primary and secondary school on Beta Pictoris. Were you born there as well?"

"No," Alex says. "I studied hard, though. Got good marks in most things, other than Chemistry, I guess. Do you want to know what my favorite subject was? Or, oh, man, I could tell you about that literature teacher I had in sixth form, she had legs up to _here_ -"

"That's quite all right, Captain," the prosecutor says.

\---

"God," Spencer says. "This is going to be the worst cross examination ever, isn't it."

"Basically," Suarez agrees. "Yeah."

"And you were the one who wanted me to bring them back," Ryan says, oddly cheerful. He's feeling very light, right now, like everything is floating and nothing in particular matters very much. He could just as easily be miserable, but it hardly seems worth the time.

He's had a very lucky life, so far, and he supposes at some point that luck was bound to run out. It's kind of exciting. Not laughing requires an awful lot of effort right now.

In the witness stand, Alex is prattling on cheerfully about the three times he blew up his own chemistry experiment. Ryan and Spencer play a game of hangman. Spencer wins, killing the little stick figure before Ryan can guess "DOOMEDFOREVER". Ryan draws a little crown on the hangman.

"Captain Greenwald," the prosecutor says. "If we could stay on track."

"Hey, you brought it up, man," Alex says.

"Actually," the judge says, "due to our late start today, it's time for a lunch break. Court dismissed."

Alex stands up, pushing open the little door and stepping down with the easy, lazy way of moving that Ryan can't help but watch. There's a whole bunch of cameras pointed on Alex, too, so at least Ryan knows he's not the only one who sees the aesthetic appeal. Alex walks almost the whole way to their desk. Ryan stares, and Alex smiles, and leans forward.

"Hey, honey," he says, and then he turns around and walks out.

\---

"We should have you arrested," Spencer snaps.

"I thought you did," Alex says.

"Alex," Z says, from where she and the rest of the crew are sitting around the table. "Remember that talk we had about unnecessary drama?"

"Remember that talk we had when I said kidnapping a prince was a stupid fucking idea in the first place?" Alex says, wheeling on her.

Suarez puts up his hand. "Uh. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"I'm just saying." Z gives Alex a sympathetic look contrary to her somewhat amused tone. "It was a subpoena, not a warrant."

"It's going to turn into a warrant," Spencer says grimly.

"Yeah?" Alex says. "What for? Answering questions in a trial truthfully?"

"I'm sure I'll find something," Spencer says. "How about, being a complete fucking moron. Or _manslaughter_."

"If I wanted to kill the Prince Regent, I could do that much quicker than this particular waste of my time," Alex says.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, too," Suarez says. "Seriously, has anyone noticed me standing here?"

"You could come sit with me over here," Ryan offers. "This corner appears to be invisible, too."

Darren almost smiles at him, before he darts a look at Alex and appears to think better of it.

"How long is this trial even going to go for?" Alex asks. "We've got work to do. When can we leave?"

Spencer stares at him in disbelief.

"What work have you got?" Ryan leans forward a little.

"Fuck you," Alex says easily.

"Okay, then," Ryan says, sitting back.

Suarez says, "Okay, look, you really can't talk to His Majesty that way."

"Oh, well damn," Alex says. "Sorry about that. It's just so tempting."

Suarez pulls a chair over next to Ryan. "You know," he says, conversationally, "I'm beginning to see why you didn't want them here."

Ryan snorts. " _Beginning_ to?"

Meanwhile, Spencer's worked himself into quite the impressive display of anger. "Do you have _any idea_ what your testimony is going to do to the credibility of Ryan's case?"

Alex shrugs. "Hey. All I've been doing is answering questions honestly."

"In the most obnoxious way possible, sure," Spencer says. "Suarez is good, but seriously, I don't think whatever issues you two have personally actually warrant murder."

Alex snorts. "So we're upping the charges from manslaughter to murder, now? Who the fuck am I killing, anyway, His-motherfucking-Majesty's ego?"

"Technically, sure," Ryan says, cheerfully.

"I'm so sorry for your self-esteem," Alex says, looking in Ryan's general direction but not actually _at_ him, which is a bit weird. He turns back to Spencer. "Really, I am. But hey, if me telling the truth gets him taken off the throne, at least his biography'll be that much more interesting. If he's even worth one at that point, I guess."

"Oh my god," Ryan says, laughing, even though Alex is hardly talking to him. Alex and Spencer keep arguing, and he turns to Suarez. "Hey, so like - how to they get rid of monarchs these days, anyway?"

"It's been a few centuries since an already-crowned ruler was executed, actually," Suarez says. "So it'll be interesting to see. Last time was a beheading, though."

"Ooh," Ryan says. "Do we still have a guillotine?"

"In a museum, maybe," Suarez says. "I wonder if they'd build you a new one. That's up to the judge, really, but no one's been beheaded since then, and it'd been nearly four hundred years between that and the last beheading anywhere in the - well, the territories the kingdom held at the time. They might opt for something more modern."

"Firing squad, then," Ryan says. "Or - lethal injection? I'd prefer the firing squad, I think. It's got more dignity. Maybe I can make that my final request."

"I don't think you get to choose your own method of execution, but it's worth a try," Suarez says.

Ryan starts laughing. "Even my own defense thinks I'm doomed. This is great."

"You _had_ a good case," Suarez says, despondent. "And I appreciate you choosing me as your legal counsel, at least, Your Majesty."

"Yeah, no problem," Ryan says. "Well, I mean. Do your best." He half stands up, so he's at a better angle to hold out his hand and give Suarez a handshake.

"It's been an honor," Suarez says.

"I just hope defending me won't ruin your legal career," Ryan says. He looks up briefly.

Spencer is gesturing angrily, saying something about how "even _if_ Ryan's a jerk, and I'm not even going to deny that right now, that's no excuse," and Alex just looks amused.

Suarez shrugs. "I have back-up plans. I mean, I can't say I believe your cousin will want to hire me back on, but I know people. And I could always go back to cooking school and become a celebrity chef."

"You cook?" Ryan asks, vaguely curious now. "You want to make my last meal, then?"

Apparently Alex and Spencer are done yelling at each other, because Alex says - and it takes Ryan a moment to realize he's being addressed - "What're you talking about over there?"

"My lawyer's going to cook me my last meal," Ryan informs him cheerfully, because he sort of figures he might as well go with the most ridiculous option available to him. The whole situation is enough of a farce already that having the head of his legal team make him dinner just seems like the icing on the cake.

"Your last meal?" Alex laughs. "Sure, right."

"Like," Ryan says, staring at him, suddenly curious. "Do you seriously not get it?"

"What's there to get?" Alex asks. Ryan thinks maybe he's a bit wary, but he isn't sure, exactly, if that's the word for it, because Alex is still being contrary as hell.

"So, okay, if I get - if I'm removed from the throne," Ryan says, leaning back in his chair. "As regent, right, if they decide I'm not legitimate. The case they're making right now isn't even questioning that anymore, honestly, or not from like - the blood line or whatever, because I'm the son of the king. It honestly should be pretty clear-cut. From that standpoint things are solid, but."

"Right," Alex says. "You've got the divine right of kings, or, princes, whatever, that's nice."

"Anyway, see, the thing - you have to have noticed how they're trying to say I killed my dad, right?"

"Which is stupid," Z cuts in. "I mean, no offense, your majesty, but I'm not sure you could orchestrate a plot to kill an ox from the royal herd the day before a holiday."

"Thank you, Z, for that vote of faith," Ryan says. "But no, so, okay, the point is they're pretty much just trying to accuse me of treason, at this point. I - Spencer, come on, you guys were _just arguing about this_."

Spencer says, "Not that Captain Greenwald here was listening to a word I said."

"I don't know why I'm listening now, honestly," Alex says. "This is all incredibly stupid."

"I just." Ryan pauses, laughing. "You know the punishment for treason, right?"

"Well, sure," Alex says. "It's death, but you're the prince regent. They can't just execute you."

"Unless they convict me," Ryan says. "And, you know. Strip me of my rank and title."

"I thought they tended to exile deposed monarchs."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "I seriously - what? Where did you even get that from?"

Alex sounds a little defensive. "Prince Jon's great grand-uncle was exiled."

"I - okay, see, the politics over there are _incredibly boring_ ," Ryan says. "So I don't actually know the minutiae of political and legal history in that system, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, and see," Suarez says. "That was just a monarch getting overthrown. He wasn't accused of treason or anything, just kind of judged unfit to rule."

"Well," Alex says. "That's. Not my fault, how the legal system works."

"Oh my god," Z says, sort of wonderingly.

Darren says, "I fucking told you so, dude."

"What? You did _not_ ," Alex says, crossing his arms.

"He kind of did," Sam says. "Actually. I might have backed him up on it, too."

"You did, yes," Z says.

Suarez turns to Ryan. "So hey, what do you want me to make, anyway?"

"Dunno," Ryan says with a shrug. "You're the cook, apparently." He pauses for a moment, then laughs. "They won't even - have to check for poison, this time, oh my god."

He can't stop laughing, actually.

Alex says, "But that's a stupid law? Didn't it occur to you that that was a stupid law?" He glares in Ryan's direction.

"You know I didn't write the constitution, don't you?" Ryan says, trying to stop giggling.

"Okay, look," Z says. "Alex wasn't the only one on the ship, why don't you just. Call on one of us, and we'll testify properly."

"I was testifying properly," Alex says. Everyone ignores him, except Ryan, who laughs some more.

"I'm afraid it's a little late to undo the damage," Suarez says, rubbing his face with his hands. "I mean, unless you turn up with a completely believable explanation of why the fact that your captain is a jerk and gets into bar fights is actually a sign of great patriotic loyalty."

Z looks suddenly mischievous. "Well."

"Shut up, Elizabeth," Alex says.

"Just for calling me that—"

"I'm ordering you to shut the fuck up," Alex says.

"Oh, wow," Darren says, sounding a little wondrous. "You really are a jerk."

"What's going on?" Suarez says. "Z, if you have useful information…"

"Not that useful," Z says. "Alex is just a bit of a loyal royalist, these days."

"Shut up," Alex repeats. Ryan tilts his head to the side, confused.

"Can someone either explain the significance of this," Spencer says, "or start talking about something actually important?"

"We can stop talking about it," Alex says. "They were just drunk assholes in bars. What the fuck am I meant to say on trial, anyway?"

"Preferably something that doesn't make yourself look like a rude criminal," Suarez says, polishing his glasses. "But at this stage it doesn't really matter."

\---

Alex makes a little more of an effort after lunch, but a lot of the proceedings are taking up in legal stuff, and then the prosecutor monologues for a while -- about what, it's not entirely clear, but it's not entirely clear what the _case_ is about anymore -- and Alex is still sullen enough that it doesn't really do a whole lot to help.

"Captain Greenwald," the prosecutor says at one point, "can you tell us what proof you have that you and your crew were, in the lead-up to King George II's death, exactly where you say you were?"

"I thought that's what I was a witness for," Alex says, not bothering to push his hair out of his eyes. "To testify that the Prince Regent was with us."

"Certainly," the prosecutor says, "but your close relationship with the Prince Regent has been noted—"

Alex snorts.

"—and I am just curious as to whether there's anyone else who can back up your story besides His Majesty and your crew."

Alex's eyes narrow. "We're not liars, though."

"I never said you were," the prosecutor says smoothly.

Alex laughs, short and sharp, and leans forward earnestly. "Hey," he says, "you could always ask Valdes and Urie. They might know."

"I think I'm going to cry," Spencer remarks.

\---

"Even _with_ the ludicrous invitation of _terrifying criminals who kidnapped Ryan_ into our court," Spencer says, "which is more than enough to go on with, do you realize that they hate you? And the Prince Regent? They're going to lie through their teeth to get you both convicted! They'll say they've never seen you before in their life!"

"What, and their word on its own is good enough for the jurors and the prosecution, but mine isn't?" Alex says.

"That's what I've been telling you all along!" Spencer slumps into a seat, dropping his head and rolling his shoulders back.

"Think on the bright side," Ryan says, "at least we're all going to get killed in really hilarious fashion." He pauses, tilting his head to the side. "Well, get sentenced to death in really hilarious fashion. Probably dying won't be _as_ fun."

"I'm not going to get sentenced to death at all," Spencer grumbles.

"I wouldn't count on it," Z says, perched on the table and swinging her legs. "I'm sure Alex will come up with a couple of things to implicate you."

"Only if you're lucky," Alex says absently, and Ryan grins at him, even though Alex is still steadfastly not looking at him.

"I'd offer to try and get the case back to the original point," Suarez says, "but I don't think that's going to do much at this point. They'll probably just say that the fact that you might have killed your father is more than enough reason to question your eligibility for the throne."

"They'd have a point," Ryan says.

\---

"Miss Berg," Suarez says. "Does your captain get into fights on a regular basis?"

"Oh, no, sir," Z says, cheerfully. "Only when it seems important."

"If you wouldn't mind, could you tell us what his most recent altercation was about?"

"Sure, sure." Z nods. "So we were on our way to finish this job, right? We'd gotten to our destination, but it was too late at night to deliver the papers to the client's contact. So we had time to kill, and anyway - we went to this bar to get dinner and relax a while, when the captain happened to overhear some guys trashtalking the Prince. Prince Regent, I mean, sorry. His Majesty. Uhm."

"Go on," Suarez says.

"Anyway -"

"Objection," the prosecution says, though it seems a bit cursory. He's been doing this all day.

"Overruled," the judge says, sounding just as bored. "If you don't come up with a good reason for your next objection, I may have to find you in contempt of the court -- Your Majesty, if you would please stop laughing. I'm not afraid to hold you in contempt, either."

"Sorry," Ryan says. "Sorry, your honor."

Suarez clears his throat, turning back to the witness stand. "As you were saying, Miss Berg."

"Right, anyway - Alex overheard this group of guys saying how the prince was - what was it? Oh, stupid and pretentious. Anyway, that led to an argument, which turned into an altercation. You should—" Z laughs. "If you think Alex looks bad, you should see the other guys."

"Are you implying he harmed them beyond the injuries he sustained?"

"Oh, no, sir." Z laughs. "Quite the opposite."

"Thank you, Miss Berg," Suarez says. "If I may, how long have you served with Captain Greenwald?"

"A little over five years," Z says. "I'm not - hm. I'd say six years? I've known him longer, but if I finished school in ... and then - six and a half years."

"How has it been, working for him?"

"Oh, it's good, usually," Z says. "Pay is fair, and the work's fun, getting to travel so much. We usually, you know, the crew all gets along. We work together. Occasionally he's a bit headstrong, but mostly he listens when we have suggestions. I mean, everyone has their bad days, obviously, but mostly it's good."

"Thank you, Miss Berg," Suarez says. "That will be all."

\---

Brendon and Shane are much quicker in responding to their summons than Alex and his crew. The courier doesn't actually reach them - more like they reach the courier, with a cheery call making sure they're being invited to the capital.

The prosecution summons Brendon as witness first. Brendon swears in enthusiastically, all bright-eyed enthusiasm as he looks around the court room. He waves cheerfully at Ryan before looking up, first at the extra tier of press and witnesses, then up at the decorated ceiling.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mister Urie," the prosecutor says.

"Oh, no problem." Brendon beams. "This is all very exciting, isn't it?"

"Hm." The lawyer shuffles through his notes. "Would you care to introduce yourself to the court?"

"I'm Brendon Urie," Brendon says. "Aged twenty three. My partner, Shane Valdes and I, are like - private entrepreneurs, I guess? We've got a lot of business interests, anyway, is the point. Do you want to know, like, my favorite record or anything? I don't know what else to say." He laughs.

"That's fine," the prosecution says. "Now, Mister Urie. Have you met the defendant before?"

"Who?"

"His Majesty, the Prince Regent Ryan."

"Oh, yeah, His Highness," Brendon says, nodding. "Yeah, he was kind of - visiting with us for a while."

"Visiting?"

"Well, he wasn't the most willing guest, as these things go," Brendon says. "But we were pretty hospitable, at least, I'd say. Though, at least he was willing to take some pictures. Didn't those get out? I watched the news, some of those pictures _totally_ got published. Which, by the way -"

"Thanks," Shane says from back in the seats.

"I didn't even _compliment_ you yet," Brendon laughs. "But good job, even _if_ the prince was being all sulky."

"If I may, I'd like to remind you that you're here to answer questions, not to carry on a conversation with Mister Valdes," the prosecution says. "Can you tell us a little about your space station?"

"It's called Panic! - don't forget the exclamation point, by the way. Someone's transcribing this, right? Or is that automated? Well, I mean, someone'll check the transcript, and they should make sure they get the punctuation right. So we got the money to buy Panic! maybe a year back. Most of the staff and crew are friends of ours, or friends of friends. We're big on using those connections, you know. You've got to put your friends and allies first, is - I mean, that's not our _motto_ , but it's like."

"A guiding principle," Shane suggests loudly.

"Mister Valdes," the judge says.

"Sorry."

"So anyway, I mean. It's pretty big. We base most of our business out of there right now, but we're looking, in the next five years, to acquire management rights to a full-scale colony at one of the Beta Pictoris LaGrange points. Although, the recent political unrest there has us a little nervous - but it's such a hub for trade that it still seems like a good spot. I don't know, we'll figure it out. Anyway. So it's, you know, it's a good place. We try to be fair to our staff and our business associates. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Yes," the prosecutor says, "thank you. Mister Urie, can you tell us the timeframe that the Prince Regent was on your ship?"

"Oh," Brendon says, making a face. "I don't know. I'm shitty with dates. Shane, can you remember?"

"Don't answer that, Mister Valdes," the judge says quickly. Brendon winks at Shane.

"Do you remember how long he was onboard?" the prosecutor asks.

Brendon sighs happily. "It felt like it would last forever," he says, and winks at Ryan.

"Mister Urie," the prosecutor says. "Do you have any idea when the Prince Regent came on your ship? Or left?"

"Sorry," Brendon says. "Oh, hey, though, after he left, me and Shane had an epic Family Guy marathon. And after we switched it off and started watching the news again, he'd just come back to the capital, so. The Family Guy marathon went for, like, a week? Does that make sense?"

"Yes," the prosecutor says, sour-faced. "Your honor, if I might call Mister Valdes to the stand, with the hope that he has a better memory for dates?"

The judge looks at Suarez. "I'm happy to question the witnesses later, your honor," he says. He sounds surprised and almost hopeful.

"Very well," the judge says.

Brendon and Shane stop to hug on their way past each other, looking appropriately regretful when the judge reprimands them for holding up the court. When Shane's sworn in, he wriggles about for a little while and says, "Hey, this is a really great angle."

"Want me to go get your camera?" Brendon calls.

" _Mister_ —"

"Right, right," Brendon says. "Sorry."

"Mister Valdes," the prosecutor says.

"Hi," Shane says.

"Can you confirm that His Majesty was on your ship for an unknown period of time, up to a week before his return to the capital?"

"That's right," Shane says. "I think it was like, a week, a week and a half? We had a bit of trouble getting him to us."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you know, hiring out people to invite him to come along," Shane says, waving a hand vaguely. "It all got a bit convoluted for a while."

"Why did you -- _invite_ the Prince onboard in the first place?" the prosecutor asks.

"Well." Shane grins at the court. "Brendon wanted a prince."

There's a whole bunch of shocked murmuring. The prosecutor is starting to look a little pinched around the mouth.

"No, I'm kidding," Shane says. "Well, a little bit. We wanted to talk to His Highness -- wait, Majesty now, right? You'll have to forgive me, I haven't been on-world for a while -- anyway, we wanted to kind of, campaign about some of the unfair laws, get him to assure us that change would be made. We thought he'd better be able to see reason if he was with us."

"We're very persuasive," Brendon adds, and then covers his mouth with his hands exaggeratedly, eyes bright.

"What sort of laws?" the prosecution asks. "Did His Majesty acquiesce to any of your requests?"

"Oh, gun control, you've got some friends of ours locked up, free passage through your territory -- thanks for that, by the way." Shane waves a hand. "He wasn't very forthcoming, anyway."

"By that you mean—"

"He wouldn't agree, no. Not very flexible, if you ask me."

"Not that we ever got the chance to find out," Brendon says sadly.

" _Mister Urie_ ," the judge barks. "I am not afraid to expel you from my courtroom."

"No, you won't," Shane says, lightly. He smiles at the judge, who looks a little confused.

"Are you implying," the prosecutor says, perking up a little, "that the Prince Regent had intimate relations with you?"

"No," Shane says. "I mean, like, we thought it would be fun? But he seemed really anti-it, it was pretty boring. He kept asking to sleep down in the dungeons away from us, it was really sad."

Suarez stands up. "I think now would be a good time to point out how His Majesty has conducted himself with decorum and grace in the face of adversity—"

"Mister Suarez, you do not hold the floor," the judge says. She shuffles some papers and adds, "but so noted."

"Mister Valdes," the prosecutor says, drawing in a breath. "Do you recognise this man?"

He points to where Alex is sitting. Shane scowls. "Yes."

"You don't seem happy to see him."

"I'm not that fond of him, no," Shane agrees.

"Would you care to expand on that?"

"He threatened Brendon," Shane says.

"In a bar fight?" the prosecutor says, a little hopefully.

"No," Shane says. "This story is boring, can we skip it?"

"If you would just grant us a little of your time."

"Okay, well." Shane sighs. "He and the Prince -- Prince Regent, whatever, they'd obviously been, like, conspiring together, so one day we're all just hanging out, and me and Brendon are being really nice to the Prince, very friendly, and then Greenwald barges in with a gun and orders us to, like, set the prince free or else, and the prince is working with him, and it was all just a big letdown, really. They stole our shuttle."

"Did they give it back to you?" the prosecutor asks.

"Oh, _come on_ ," Ryan says.

"Your Majesty," the judge reproaches him, but she's smiling a little bit.

"No." Shane shakes his head. "He did not. After all our hospitality." He gives Ryan a mournful look. "We only locked him up a couple of times, too."

\---

On the lunchbreak, Ryan goes and wanders around for a while. Suarez is all excited again, and has locked himself up with Spencer to write notes about the best line of interrogation, and Ryan wants to clear his head for a little while. He goes and finds something for lunch, and takes the little cup of soup with him, wandering around the back of the courthouse and hoping that nobody's going to turn up and decide he's snooping around or whatever.

It's stupid, because Ryan's been in a room with him a lot over the past week, but when he turns the corner and runs into Alex he freezes like a rabbit caught in headlights.

Alex looks caught off-guard, too. "What are you doing here?" he says, frowning.

"Lunch." Ryan holds up the cup of soup. "You?"

"I don't know." Alex stares at the wall, laughing short and unhappy. "How did Urie and Valdes end up better witnesses than me?"

"The prosecution seems to like crazy people," Ryan offers. "Like, you know, based on their whole case."

"Lawyers," Alex says disdainfully. "He's very short, too."

"Which has a lot of bearing on how he composes himself in the court room, yes," Ryan says, nodding. "I mean, probably his height bothers me more than his questions."

Alex's mouth twitches, nearing on a smile.

Ryan sort of gestures with his cup of soup. "I should probably. Go somewhere."

"Hmm."

Ryan stares at Alex thoughtfully, though, because he can. Alex still hardly looks at him. It's weird, Ryan thinks, how quickly things can change. He'd really thought - but they weren't even together quite a month, he supposes, so he shouldn't have thought much of anything at all just yet. Ryan swallows, deciding to allow himself a moment of stupidity. "Did you really want me dead?"

"No," Alex says, startling Ryan a little with the ease of his answer.

"Oh."

Alex shrugs. "And I mean - your case is better now, right? My, you know. Suggestion. That turned out good."

"It did." Ryan drops his head for a moment, not sure if he's frustrated or shy or what. Sorting out his own feelings can get a bit complicated, sometimes. "I might not even get executed, which is - nice."

"Nice." Alex barks out a startled laugh. "Just nice?"

"I was - prepared to respect the order of the court," Ryan says. He shrugs a little. "I mean, really. What else was I - it's kind of ridiculous, right, I decide to - trust someone. And."

Ryan looks up at Alex for a brief moment, then back down at his soup, sipping at it because he forgot to get a spoon. He wishes someone had reminded him. He's pretty sure he has more sympathy from the people, now, after this latest round of testimony, though probably people are going to question why he was ever involved with such a jerk. Ryan's feeling a little strange and unsure about that, too.

It's not pleasant.

Ryan kind of liked it better when he was trying to figure out if he'd get to go by firing squad or guillotine. With Alex's earlier departure, they hadn't really had time to fight, and then it was immediately to trial, and there have been other issues of state to deal with all made more complicated by his tenuous status. Being alone together, rather than surrounded by crew and legal counsel - and Spencer, for that matter - feels more awkward than it has a right to.

"Your—" Alex says, looking around quickly before deciding on, "Ryan."

Ryan slurps down some more of his soup. "It's probably about time for Suarez to give a rousing and impassioned monologue, I think."

"Ryan," Alex says, taking a half-step towards him but still not meeting his eyes or looking at him properly.

"So, yeah," Ryan says. "I should get going."

He doesn't move. Alex stares at the ground. "It's not like," Alex says, low enough that Ryan has to strain to hear, "it's not like you were ever actually going to die."

"Well, I guess not now," Ryan says.

"They wouldn't really give the sentence, though, is what I'm saying."

"Alex," Ryan says, and Alex darts a look at him. Ryan shrugs and says, "That's kind of what they do."

"Sentence princes to death."

"Dispose justice," Ryan says gently, "as they see fit."

"Right, well." Alex pushes his hand through his hair, which falls straight back into his face. "Anyway, you would have gotten out. Like, loyalists would have broken you out, or there would have been an appeal, or, I mean, we could have flown you away, if worst came to worst—"

"Yeah, okay," Ryan says, a little impatient and tired of this conversation. "Whatever you say."

"Well, it's true." Alex looks up, face stubborn.

Ryan shakes his head helplessly. "You talk a lot of shit sometimes," Ryan tells him.

"Like you can talk," Alex says, eyes narrowing.

"Yeah," Ryan says, "but at least I can admit it." He turns and begins to walk back in the direction he came from, but Alex is behind him, grabbing his arm and shoving him back against the wall. Ryan's glad he's evaded his security detail for now, because they probably wouldn't take well to this. _He's_ not taking particularly well to this, but in a stupid way, his heart pounding, eyes wide.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex snaps.

Ryan draws in a breath, trying to steady himself. "It's just that -- whatever, you're mad, I get it," he says. "And I tried to explain and apologise but -- fine, okay, your prerogative, but you're kind of a jerk. Even if you deluded yourself into thinking that the case wasn't important, that, that the outcome wasn't important, or wasn't going to matter, then, just. It was still a dick move."

Alex laughed shortly, almost meanly. "Oh, no. Are you _mad_ at me?"

"No," Ryan says, and shuts his mouth against _that's the problem_.

"So you're being all wise and benign on me," Alex says. "That's great, thanks a bunch, but I really don't need royalty to approve or understand my choices, so, you know, if you could leave me alone, that'd be great."

"You're still holding onto me," Ryan says quietly, and Alex's fingers tighten around Ryan's arm.

At least Alex actually looks at Ryan now, though it's mostly a glare. His gaze slips aside for a moment, to his hand on Ryan's arm, and he relaxes his grip, just a little, expression going strange.

Ryan's mouth feels dry, and he licks his lips, then realizes what he's done, and glances at Alex's mouth just for a moment. It all feels much too obvious, but he's just starting to lean forward and—

"Your Majesty," someone from the legal team calls, and Alex backs off like he's been burnt. "The proceedings can't continue without - there you are, sir. If you would."

"Right," Ryan nods. He looks to Alex. "You'll probably want to get your seat back. Or I guess you can probably leave for the day, if you want. I know you'd much rather have the chance to swoop in and save the day, but there really isn't much for you to do in the way of ... day-saving, I guess, in a court of law. You can get someone on security to recommend you a good bar in the area, probably."

Alex just looks at him. Ryan follows after the paralegal, Nate, who's babbling about how exciting all this is even though it's not the best _example_ and whatever. He chances looking back over his shoulder, and Alex is watching him.

Ryan realizes he never even finished his soup. He wonders if the judge will find him in contempt of the court if he tries to finish it during court proceedings.

\---

Suarez's speech is, as expecting, both inspiring and rousing. He has to stop for applause a bunch of times, and the prosecution team look like they've swallowed lemons. Ryan actually has to work on looking calm and glad in an appropriate way now, because now that they seem to be coming back into their own laughing or looking amused probably wouldn't go down very well with the public or the jury.

Suarez questions a bunch of witnesses again, too, though not Brendon or Shane yet, saying he'll leave them for the morning. Mostly it's just palace staff, lots of people who have known Ryan since he was a child, and Ryan's father's doctor. Ryan's kind of impressed by Victoria Asher's testimony; she manages to be calm and clear about the tragic and accidental nature of the king's death without actually making it clear that Ryan's dad was way too drunk when he died. Ryan supposes it wouldn't be the worst thing for that to come out, now, not in comparison to everything else that's going on, but he's grateful that she manages it, all the same. He doesn't think it would take very much research to realize just how often Ryan's dad had been drunk, if the thought occurred to anyone. If nothing else, there's probably servants who have heard King George II yelling at Ryan on bad nights.

Anyway, court finishes up early enough, and Ryan begs out of the dinner, even though Suarez is flushed and cheerful looking and he suspects it might be a much more pleasant gathering than the glum meals they've had for the last few nights. He's hungry, but he arranges for something to be sent up to his room, and then he goes up there and takes off his tie and kicks off his shoes and stares at his face in the mirror. He looks pale and tired, which is strange, because he doesn't feel particularly tired, but he guesses he's not been getting much sleep. Not, if he's honest, since Alex left, and even before Ryan fucked things up and then Alex fucked them up more.

Greta's summerhouse, he thinks. That was the last time he slept well. It's over a month ago.

The door opens, and Ryan says, "I'm not finished with the plates yet, thanks."

"Yeah," Alex says. "I'm just. I think I left a t-shirt here."

Ryan turns around. "Oh," he says. "Hi."

"Before I went," Alex says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "The one with KAZAM written on it."

"Um," Ryan says. "I don't know. I haven't seen it."

"Oh," Alex says, looking around the room sort of nervously.

"Someone might have tidied it up," Ryan says. "Like, mostly they know which clothes are mine, they might have taken it somewhere else. I don't know where they take them, but, I mean. You could ask the steward."

"Right," Alex says, "or I could just," and he starts forward and tugs out the shirt from under Ryan's pillow.

"Oh," Ryan says weakly. "There it is."

"There it is," Alex agrees.

"What are you doing?" Ryan starts, then pauses, considering his statements before speaking. "I mean more in terms of, what do you think is going to happen, here."

"I just wanted my shirt."

"You couldn't have asked for it in any other way," Ryan says. He takes a step forward. "Couldn't have mentioned it someplace."

"I only just remembered."

Another step. "So you came up here."

"Yes."

"Okay," Ryan says. Two more steps forward and he's right in front of Alex, looking up at him. "You got your shirt."

"I did, yeah. That's true. It's - I really like this shirt. It seemed cruel and unusual to abandon it to its fate. You wouldn't have treated it right."

"Aha," Ryan says. "Right. Yeah, I just mistreat everything left in my care. That sounds about right."

Alex shrugs, looking away.

"You got it, though, rescued it from my clutches I guess. Why are you still here?" Ryan doesn't know what he's doing, exactly. On a technical level, he does - he puts his arms around Alex's neck - but it's the why that's escaping him right now. "Alex. Captain."

"Yes."

"This is a really bad idea, just so you know. But, I mean. I'm on trial for my legitimacy, sort of - or I was, I don't know - but fuck it, it's about my legitimacy, not my suitability or whatever."

"Yeah," Alex says, lifting a hand to Ryan's chest. For a minute Ryan thinks Alex is going to push him away, but he just tangles his fingers in the fabric and drags Ryan in. Their teeth click together at first, and Ryan's nose kind of hurts from bumping into Alex's. It takes a few moments to get everything sorted, and at some point Ryan wonders if he even locked his door, but - whatever, he doesn't care, because he's letting Alex lead him to the bed.

Ryan's not thinking a lot, or maybe he is and is just also purposefully ignoring any of the actually important stuff he should be considering -- but Alex's hands are deft and sure (and Ryan supposes that they know each other pretty well now, they're good at this), and his mouth is hungry, and Ryan has missed him. His chest feels tight with relief, and they get clumsy every now and then, pausing to keep kissing, taking turns shoving each other down against Ryan's soft blankets.

When Alex comes, though, panting against Ryan's neck, Ryan's head is starting to clear just enough that he's not entirely sure this was the best course of action. He curls his arms around Alex all the same, one hand clenched in Alex's hair still, and when Alex tries to move away, Ryan tightens his grip. Alex shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn't say anything. Ryan feels sticky and overly warm and he kind of wants to shower or at least get under the cool sheets, but he doesn't want Alex to go, either.

But Alex says, "You're pulling my hair," and Ryan lets him go. Alex moves, rolling to the side, onto his back, but then he stays there, and Ryan tries not to stare. He feels oddly self-conscious, barely half-dressed, he just knows that his hair will be sticking up and he's probably got that stupid dazed expression that Alex leaves him with often enough. Alex is staring at the ceiling, and then he closes his eyes.

"What are you," Ryan starts, and then shakes his head. "Sorry, never mind."

"What?" Alex says, without opening his eyes.

"Nothing," Ryan says.

Alex sighs a little, not like he's unhappy, more like the sleepy sounds he makes sometimes in the middle of the night. Ryan likes those sounds, likes waking up and knowing with all of his senses that Alex is there.

"Stop staring at me," Alex says.

"I'm not," Ryan lies.

"You are," Alex says. "You've been staring at me for a week and a half, it's driving me fucking crazy."

"Sorry," Ryan says, feeling stupidly embarrassed. He looks away from Alex, turning his face into the crook of his own arm. "I'll stop."

"Good," Alex says. "Because, you know. It makes being pissed off at you a lot harder if I spend the whole time wanting to jump you."

Ryan bites his lip, not sure whether he wants to smile or just say something stupid. "Oh," he says. "Well, yeah, I'm, I'm sorry about that."

"I am, by the way," Alex says. "I'm fucking furious."

"I worked that one out," Ryan says, and feels Alex roll in closer to him, bumping his face up along where Ryan's is hidden against his arm and the mattress.

"Good," Alex says. "Now stop hiding. You're all muffled."

"I am not."

"How can - of course you're not, to _yourself_ ," Alex says, not that he's especially unmuffled or anything, with his face up against Ryan's arm. He nuzzles in close, even though Ryan has to imagine his hair's a little itchy, or whatever, against Alex's skin. But that's not really his problem, he supposes.

"This is really dumb," Ryan says.

"Thanks."

"I just mean, in terms of - of things that a person could do, right now, this is right up there with the dumbest ones, I think." Ryan lifts his face a little, squinting one eye partway open to look at Alex. It's not staring if he can hardly see.

"Why, because you're such an asshole?"

"Sure," Ryan says. "Yes, exactly. Thanks."

Alex lets out a breath, and Ryan shivers a little because Alex is close enough that he could feel it.

"You know I don't actually _like_ how I have to think of everything I do politically, right?"

"But you do it anyway," Alex says. "That's what I don't get."

"I don't really have a whole lot of choice in the matter, Alex," Ryan says. "Like. This is my life, and it means I'm really lucky in a lot of ways, and it's just. I can't help it."

"You could," Alex says.

"Yeah," Ryan answers, a little impatient, "have you noticed what happens when I do try to do something differently? The whole trial thing?"

"That's not about," Alex starts, and then he stops. "I guess. I guess I'm being a little unfair."

"I would have talked to you about it," Ryan says, "if I had the chance, or the time, I. I would have asked you."

"Or found some way to make it like you didn't run off with someone entirely unsuitable."

"No," Ryan says, "I wouldn't have done that."

Alex blinks at him, blurry this close.

"I know it's kind of -- hard not to, with me, but I don't really like it when things are really public," Ryan says. "I dated this girl, and she was, um, pretty high profile, and I am, too, and so when I fucked it all up it was just. Really bad." He nods a little to himself, because the Keltie mess gets dragged up pretty frequently, and Ryan still feels kind of crappy about it. "But I wouldn't have lied. About you."

Alex doesn't say anything, watching him. Ryan closes his eyes, slumps into the pillow.

"So stop saying all that stuff," he mumbles. "That you're not -- what, press material, seriously, who gives a fuck. I don't ask them to vet the people I -- it's stupid. And I don't want you because of a biography or because of how you didn't want me for ages or because you're going to be such an asset to the trial." He laughs a little. "So you can just. Calm down about all of that. Maybe. Please." He risks another quick glance at Alex. "If you're planning on sticking around, anyway."

Alex just sort of stares at him, and Ryan wants to sleep, for once. He sighs, leaning forward to brush his lips against Alex's.

And remembers - "I'm gonna eat my dinner, actually. You can, uh. Have some? I guess?"

"I already ate," Alex says.

"Right, okay."

"So I should go."

Ryan breathes in and out, very slow and steady. He gets up, pulling his pants up properly, and goes to where he left the plate with his dinner. He sits down to eat, not because he's especially hungry, but because he knows he should. Even if he can't sleep, he can at least do one thing right in terms of taking care of himself. Possibly he should brush his teeth, too. He's pretty sure he can manage that later.

He hears Alex sit up, but no sign that Alex has moved any further than that.

He's almost done when Alex says, "Do you want me to?"

"What."

"Go," Alex says. "I mean - I should, probably."

"I'm not going to issue a decree or anything." Ryan laughs a little, putting his fork down. He turns, leaning over the back of the chair to look at Alex. Alex still looks a bit of a mess, with his hair mussed up and most of his clothes missing. Except his socks. They forgot about those, apparently. Ryan can't really help himself; he ends up grinning wide.

Alex narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What?"

"It's kind of up to you, if you feel like being a jerk or not," Ryan tells him.

"Wait, which is the jerk option? Because I'm very good at being a jerk, and I just - I want to know which decision would be most in character at this point."

"Hmm." Ryan rubs at his chin thoughtfully. "Hard to say."

"I could go again."

"What?"

"If it's that hard."

"Oh my god." Ryan laughs. "You creep. You're such - what the hell."

"It's clearly easier for me to be obnoxious from here," Alex says. "Than, you know. Elsewhere."

"That's true," Ryan agrees. "If you leave, then I won't even, you know. Have your t-shirt anymore. And that's a jerk move, but it's one fell swoop of douchedom, instead of a constant barrage of it."

"Precisely," Alex says. "I mean, even if I, you know - try to be understanding about certain things. That doesn't limit my ability to be a jerk. I just have to be more creative."

"I have faith in your abilities," Ryan says, nodding along.

"I would thank you," Alex says, "except for how I don't want to, because you suck." He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, eyes bright, and says in a whisper, "You see that?"

"Impressive," Ryan says. Alex laughs, and Ryan turns back to his dinner, smiling at nothing. He's still not very hungry, but he eats the rest of his food anyway, until he hears Alex's footsteps and Alex comes and leans over him, resting his chin on top of Ryan's head and dangling his arms over Ryan's shoulders.

"You eat very slowly," Alex says.

"I conduct myself with decorum at all times," Ryan says.

"Hmm." Alex is tracing the line of Ryan's cheekbone and then his jaw with his mouth, stubble grazing just lightly against Ryan's skin. Ryan closes his eyes, tilting his head back against Alex's shoulder. He's still smiling stupidly, but he's pretty sure Alex is, too, especially when Alex presses a kiss to the corner of Ryan's mouth and then giggles, stupid and glad.

"Hang on," Ryan says, and gets up to lock the door. Alex laughs at him.

\---

Brendon, apparently, snores, at least when he's sitting up. Ryan nearly wishes he didn't know that, but at the same time, it's hilarious, as half the court-room has turned to stare until some enterprising soul sitting near him very, very carefully nudges him back awake. Brendon jerks to full attention instantly, half-rising to his feet before settling back down to look around the courtroom.

Ryan stifles a laugh, but there are a few people who don't, and the judge sighs, and says, "Order, please," and people manage to calm down a bit.

"Right," Suarez says. "Anyway, Mister Valdes, if you'd please continue."

"Sorry," Shane says. "Sorry, he's just really cute when he sleeps. Are you sure I can't have my camera?"

"Yes," Suarez says. "I'm sure. Would you like to finish answering the question?"

"Oh, what was it again? Did we - right, yeah. In retrospect, we probably shouldn't have let the prince spend any time at all in the dungeons, because that's clearly how he ended up conspiring with Captain Greenwald and all. So I guess, if we did it again, we'd make sure to - to give any visiting princes the VIP treatment all along, even if they tried to refuse our hospitality, and - that wasn't the question, was it? Sorry. I got off track."

Suarez's face is a bit drawn, and Ryan can't tell if he's frustrated, or trying not to laugh, or both, maybe.

"So - okay, right," Shane says. "Those pictures. I took them, yeah. He looks good, right? Even though he's sort of pissed off, but I think that's more realistic, maybe, just considering how he was the whole time. Looking at them now, I wish I'd done a little more with the lighting. I could have done things differently."

"What else would you have done differently, besides the lighting?"

"Well, see, at that point, he was - complaining a lot, I guess, about how we were mistreating our other prisoner, and I mean, I only kicked Greenwald _once_ , you know? Which, really, considering, is not that bad. But he hadn't wanted to take pictures, so I'm pretty sure - was that the agreement?"

"Pretty much," Brendon says.

The judge just sighs, wearily, having given up on reprimanding the two unless it gets really out of hand.

"Can you clarify just what the agreement you reached with the prince was?"

"Oh. Right, so he let me take some pictures, sulking the whole time, in exchange for not beating up on, like - a 'citizen of his kingdom.' Pretty sure that was how he phrased it, too. It was ridiculous." Shane pauses for a moment. "Your honor, come on, I _really_ like the lighting in here, and my lens is way better than that asshole journalist over there -"

"No," the judge says. "And if you ask again, you'll be held in contempt of the court. I mean it this time."

"Sorry."

"Tell us again about the events when the prince escaped," Suarez says.

Shane sighs. "I've told this story, like -- fine, okay. So we're trying to, you know, comfort the prince and stuff—"

"Comfort him about what?"

"Oh, he and Greenwald concocted some little story, I don't know." Shane waves a hand airily. "Got us off-guard, is the point, otherwise, you know, we would have talked them through the rage or whatever, but I turn around and the prince has a gun pointed to Brendon's head unless we let him and Greenwald go free. And, you know. I'm not going to let them shoot Brendon, so we just let them go."

"You didn't pursue them?"

"No, man." Shane shakes his head. "Like -- we were kind of pissed off? But also it was -- we were attacked in our own home, by a respected guest, we were pretty sad."

"So what did you do when the shuttle left Panic!, then?"

"Well, we went to see what controls we had over it," Shane says. "Unfortunately they're pretty self-sufficient, and it wasn't one of our newer shuttles, so we couldn't activate a homing device or anything. But they were still close enough that we could affect some of the modes, so we pushed the oxygen circulator up to high."

Suarez blinks. "I'm sorry. Are you saying you deliberately caused the shuttle to use up all the oxygen in a faster period of time?"

"We were hoping they'd just turn around and come back," Shane explains, smiling. "Then when that didn't work we went to bed. And the Family Guy marathon."

Most of the courtroom is silent. Ryan can't help sneaking a glance at Alex, who shrugs a little.

"Wait," Shane says, frowning, "should we not have done that?"

\---

"Your Majesty," the prosecutor says, strolling back and forth with his hands behind his back, "do you deny threatening Brendon Urie with a gun?"

"No," Ryan says.

"Do you deny using that gun to force him and his partner to give you a shuttle?"

"No," Ryan says.

"No further questions," the prosecutor says.

Suarez stands up. "I don't think this really needs saying," he says, "but -- Your Majesty. Did you see any other alternative to escape Misters Urie and Valdes?"

"No," Ryan says. "Like, I'd tried to talk to them, pretend that maybe we could better negotiate if they returned us to the capital, all of that. But they were pretty set on keeping us there forever, and I was worried about Captain Greenwald."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I mean, I could deal with them," Ryan says. He shrugs, smiling as disarmingly as he can at the jury. "But they were locking Al-- Captain Greenwald up and being sort of stingy with food and not letting him out of this tiny room, so. I thought we had better move quickly."

"Quite understandable, I think," Suarez says. "Your Majesty, did you ever intend on shooting Brendon Urie?"

"No," Ryan says. "I don't want to kill anyone."

"I wish we'd known that at the time," Brendon says sadly, voice clear across the stands.

Ryan smiles crookedly. "To tell the truth," he says, "I'm not sure I would have been able to work the pistol. It was one of those new ones, I didn't recognise the model."

\---

"Oh, hey," Ryan says, over lunch. He reaches into his pocket and palms something, sidling over to Alex. "Hey. I have something."

Alex blinks at him. "Okay."

"Gimme your hand," Ryan says. Alex holds his hand out, looking confused, and Ryan makes sure to tuck his fingers around the object so it'll be hidden from cameras and everything the whole time.

Alex stares at him incredulously. "You still have that?"

"I thought you'd want it back," Ryan says, because he only just wore that pair of boots again today, and he hadn't actually realized he'd had Alex's knife this entire time. He never even got to use it, though probably that's a good thing. He's trained to fight with swords, not knives, and he thinks probably there's a difference, especially since the reach on this one is so short.

"Not _now_ ," Alex says. "Jesus." He leans in, to whisper in Ryan's ear. "Do they not search you, or what?"

Ryan shrugs. "Got past 'em somehow."

"Somehow I don't think they'll give me the same leniency," he says, and puts his arms around Ryan's waist, one hand sliding lower - probably it looks like he is trying to be sneaky and cop a feel, but really he's just looking for the back pocket of Ryan's trousers. He's lucky enough to find one, and says, "There, keep it. It's yours. Happy birthday, Ryan."

Ryan makes a face. "It's not my birthday. I'm not _old_ or anything."

"You will be," Alex says. "Some day."

"You know from experience, I imagine," Ryan says thoughtfully.

Alex rolls his eyes at Ryan. "Do you think catering's figured out by now that vegetarian means no fish?"

"Yes," Ryan says.

"Oh, good. I've been worried."

"I - did they have fish on the menu?"

"No."

"So why were you -"

"Shut up," Alex says. "I was at a wedding once, and the only vegetarian option was roasted salmon, which isn't even. That's not even close."

"Right," Ryan says. "How long ago was this?"

"Five years."

"And you thought it was applicable to today because…"

"Shut up," Alex says again.

"So bossy," Ryan says, laughing.

"It's, hey, now. It's a change of pace. You get to be bossed around. I know people who're into that kind of thing, you know."

"Uh-huh." Ryan raises his eyebrows.

"Possibly this isn't the best time or place to discuss that," Alex decides, stepping back from Ryan.

Ryan grins at him a little. "You sure about that?"

"Very," Alex says, sitting down and propping his feet up in the next chair. Ryan rolls his eyes and shoves Alex's feet aside, sitting down in it instead. There's a bit of a distraction when a guy comes round with baguettes -- there's vegan and vegetarian options, he tells Alex, and Alex spends about two minutes torn between something with pesto and something with mango chutney, making desperate faces at Ryan like it's the end of the world before he finally picks both -- but after they're settled again, Alex looks at Ryan thoughtfully.

"What?" Ryan says.

"Just -- how are you governing the country while all this is on?" Alex asks.

Ryan grimaces. "Very late at night."

Alex blinks. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Ryan says. "I mean, I get a couple of nights off, usually if I have to testify again the next day and they need me semi-awake for cameras, but. Yup."

"So you come back from this every night to work on -- what, legislation?"

"Everything," Ryan says. He smiles a little. "There's a lot, especially because parliament's in session at the moment."

"Right," Alex says.

"Hopefully the trial will be over soon," Ryan says, shrugging a little. "We were expecting it to drag on for weeks, but we also weren't expecting it to be this -- eventful."

The corner of Alex's mouth quirks.

"So really it could be ages yet," Ryan says, making a face. "Which'll suck. Although I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get executed now, so."

"I really would have broken you out," Alex says, low enough that the people around them can't hear.

"And ignored me haughtily all the way to the boundaries of space?" Ryan laughs. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Hey, man," Alex says, "anything I can do."

"Hi, guys!" a chirpy guy says, coming and sitting down in the chair opposite them. "How's it going?"

Alex slants Ryan a confused look. Ryan blinks, but tries to smile warmly, because he feels like he recognises the guy from somewhere and he doesn't want to be rude. "Hey," he says. "Pretty well, thanks. Yourself?"

"Oh, you're sweet to ask, thank you, your majesty," the guy says, beaming at them. "I'm very well indeed. I just wanted to say -- it must be terribly hard, having your kidnappers so close."

"Well, I kind of feel like I'm a little more protected now," Ryan says.

The guy laughs, throwing his head back. Alex looks quietly amused. "Certainly, certainly!" the guy says. "I'm just _so_ glad you're okay, your majesty. And you too, Captain Greenwald." He turns his smile on Alex. "I'm such a fan."

"Uh," Alex says, looking a little startled. "Thanks."

"So heroic and brave," the guy says, and Ryan wonders if he's actually -- he's not _actually_ fluttering his eyelashes, is he? That's not. Ryan's pretty sure that's too weird. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but everyone was talking about you two weren't speaking or something, just _terrible_ rumors, I'm so glad to see that's not true--"

"Well, yeah," Ryan says, "I like talking."

"I was just wondering," the guy says, "like, how you guys, _you_ know, what the big story is, if you don't mind me asking?"

Alex is starting to look vaguely panicked. Ryan bites his lip, tries to work out a polite way to tell the guy to fuck off.

"Your Majesty," Spencer says, dryly, "if you could refrain talking to tabloid writers who have snuck into the courtroom, I'd appreciate it."

The guy giggles a little.

"Run along, DeLeon," Spencer says, and takes the guy's now-free chair. "What the hell?" Spencer stares at Ryan.

"He was a _tabloid writer_?" Ryan stares back.

Alex looks confused. "Wait. I thought you knew him."

"I do, I recognised him," Ryan insists. "I -- oh, wait. Was he the one who tried to climb into my window that time?"

"That was Marshall," Spencer says. "But DeLeon might have been around."

Ryan frowns for a moment. "His parents named him DeLeon? Really?"

"Uh," Spencer says. "No."

Ryan narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Spencer."

"Deleon is his last name."

"And his first name?" Ryan asks. slowly.

Spencer says, "Alex."

Ryan pauses a moment. "Is Marshall a first or last name?"

"Last," Spencer says.

"Oh my god," Alex says. "Why does - Ryan, why does _everyone_ have my name, what is this?"

"Don't worry," Ryan says. "You're the best Alex. You came first, anyway."

"That's true." Alex nods, but he still looks very serious and a bit put out. "Chronologically. I had it first. I should take it back."

"You should. Go on a mission of vengeance. Search and destroy."

"Yeah, that's a pretty reasonable solution, I feel." Alex laughs a little, and Ryan smiles innocently back at him. "Thank you for the suggestion, your majesty."

Ryan shrugs. He's feeling generous right now, really, dispensing wise suggestions like that one. "Ain't no thing."

"Ain't no—" Spencer says. "Did you just say that?"

Ryan keeps smiling. He feels very serene right now, and a bit smug, though he'd rather think of it as self-satisfied.

"You're so lucky they're only arguing your legitimacy," Spencer says. "And not your suitability."

"I know." Ryan nods. "I've, that's been established. It's a fair point."

"More than fair," Alex says.

"Ain't no thing," Spencer says again, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think I realized any of those words were even in your vocabulary."

"Oh, come on, you've heard me say no plenty of times. I refuse so much, Spencer, so often."

"That's true," Spencer agrees. He checks his watch. "Oh, good, we have a whole ten minutes before it's back into the fray."

"I'm really excited for this afternoon." Ryan picks at his food a bit, knowing he should eat more. At this rate he'll end up sick for no good reason, but his appetite's been awful lately. "I want to hear the prosecution present his latest argument. Which probably will have changed _again_."

"We've got him on the run, at least," Spencer says. "Which is kind of nice."

"Well, yeah." Ryan nods. "I'm enjoying it. I'm glad no one thinks I killed my father anymore, though."

"Oh, there'll be conspiracy theorists for years," Spencer says.

"They'll probably put together educational videos about the whole conspiracy," Alex adds lazily. "Distribute them on street corners and at - the dock's of space stations and things. I bet it'll be big on Beta Pictoris."

"Do you think you have a fanclub yet?" Ryan asks, suddenly curious.

Alex blinks. "Do I think I have a what, now? Why would I have a fanclub?"

"I mean, the tabloids are having a field day with this whole thing," Ryan says. "And you're either a morally dissolute monster of a dashing, roguish hero. There's not much in between, but, you know. Both are popular, depending on - how much the readers of a given rag like me, pretty much. You probably have a fan club."

"Fuck." Alex laughs.

Ryan smiles at him. "You didn't expect it?"

"No," Alex says. "I'm -- what, obviously, no."

"I'm surprised, too," Brendon says cheerfully, dropping himself into a chair next to Ryan. "I wouldn't join a club about a criminal."

Ryan jumps a little, can't help it. Spencer and Alex are staring; Ryan can't quite make his mouth work.

"Can I have some of your baguette?" Brendon asks, pinching a bit off Ryan's plate. "Thanks. Shane and I thought we could go halvsies but it really wasn't enough."

"You got three quarters of it, too," Shane says, leaning over Brendon's chair. "Hi, princey."

Spencer clears his throat. "I don't think you two should be here," he says.

"As long as Greenwald stays over there," Brendon says, eyeing Alex distrustfully.

"That doesn't make sense," Ryan says, stiffly. "I was the one who—"

"Oh, you were corrupted," Brendon says. "We forgave you a while ago."

Ryan inches his chair closer to Alex.

"I think you two should go away," Alex says, leaning forward a little, hand on the back of Ryan's chair.

"Dude, I'm pretty sure we're saving you," Brendon says. "But are we getting a big damn hero feast? No. We are not."

Ryan glances at them, quick and startled, but they look calm and settled, and Ryan really hopes people don't see this as some sort of friendly thing. He's pretty sure their body language is going to belie that, though, and anyway, mostly everyone has just realized exactly how crazy Brendon and Shane are. They spent an hour this morning before the testimonies started sitting on the table for the prosecution and swinging their legs, chatting to Ryan's uncle.

"We just wanted to say hi," Shane says. "Introduce ourselves."

"We know who you are," Ryan says.

"Yeah, yeah," Shane says. "Not everything is about you, your majesty."

Ryan blinks. Brendon turns his biggest smile on Spencer and says, "Hi, hi. I'm Brendon."

"Um," Spencer says, looking mildly concerned.

"This is Shane," Brendon adds. "We just thought we'd say hi properly, because, you know. His Majesty's family is our family!"

"Only without all the tricky succession stuff," Shane adds. "Although we'd—"

"—be quite willing to step up to rule, if you need, yeah," Brendon agrees. "Just say the word, dude." He ruffles Ryan's hair without looking away from Spencer. Ryan shuffles his chair further back towards Alex.

"I'm not family," Spencer says. "I'm his adviser."

Shane blinks. "Really?"

"Yes," Spencer says.

Shane shakes his head. "Wow. You look so—"

"Regal." Brendon jerks a thumb at Ryan. "More than him."

"It's the beard," Shane says. "You know, I don't actually think Ryan shaved the whole time he was onboard Panic!?"

"Huh," Brendon says. "Yeah, I don't remember anything like that happening."

"Pretty sure we didn't give him a razor." Shane looks thoughtful, and shakes his head a little. "Anyway, you should be proud of yourself. And happy you aren't related, since it means you've got -"

"Hybrid vigor?"

"I don't think that's it, exactly," Shane says. "Maybe. Maybe."

Brendon shrugs, vaguely. "Anyway, what's it like, being the prince's adviser? He must be a lot of trouble."

"A lot of work to keep in line," Shane suggests.

"I do my job," Spencer says.

"How long've you had the position? I bet you're new."

"You have to be new," Brendon says. "We'd remember you."

"Seriously," Shane says. "Unless—" He squints his eyes.

"Oh my god," Brendon says, delighted. "We were already your biggest fans. I loved that pink shirt you had for a while. Do you still wear that? It'd be hilarious, you're so much more grown up now."

"You've filled out," Shane says. "You've got shoulders."

"Most people do, yes," Spencer says. "Are you sure you don't want to go eat lunch somewhere else?"

"We're sure," Brendon says.

"How much longer do we have left, anyway?" Shane says.

"It's not going to be enough," Brendon says, still gazing at Spencer.

"I know this is terrible," Alex murmurs in Ryan's ear, low.

Ryan turns around a little. "But at least they're not paying attention to us?"

"Right," Alex says, and grins at him for a second.

Spencer stands up. "I think I'm going to go get some notes in order."

"Wait!" Brendon says.

"You didn't tell us your name," Shane says, leaning forward.

Spencer darts a look at Ryan. Ryan shrugs helplessly. "Uh, Spencer Smith," Spencer says. "I'm going to have security come closer and keep an eye on you two, okay? Don't -- don't go near his majesty or Captain Greenwald."

"Bye, Spencer," Brendon says, apparently ignoring this last.

"Bye, Spencer," Shane says.

Spencer gives them another sharp, freaked look and walks away.

Brendon turns around on his chair, straddling it backwards and looking at Shane. "Do you think we can take him home?"

"I'm not sure he'd be persuaded," Shane says. "But we could—"

"—persuade him when we get him home, yeah," Brendon says. "Panic! is very lovely."

"I'm sure Spencer would like it," Shane says, nodding.

"You know we can hear you, right?" Alex says.

"But you can't unravel our sordid schemes," Shane says, sounding overly earnest until Brendon starts laughing.

"This one isn't that sordid, though," Brendon says. "I mean, not in the long run. Possibly in the short term, but then it becomes less so."

"With the passage of time, yeah," Shane says.

"Maybe we could wait a bit, though," Brendon says. "I mean, patience, you know. Virtues."

"Right," Shane agrees. "Wait until we have our own colony."

"He'd have plenty of room to run and play," Brendon says, nodding. "But maybe it's better not to wait."

"I suppose," Shane says, thinking for a moment. "Well. anyway, yeah, of course you can hear us."

Ryan blinks at him.

"What, should this plan be secret?" Brendon asks, watching Ryan curiously. "He's just your adviser, not part of the royal family. You can spare him for a little while, right?"

"Not especially, no," Ryan says.

"My dreams of the monarchy are crumbling," Shane says.

Brendon nods sadly. "We really thought you'd be more regal, and, you know, able to handle yourself."

"You need to take control of your life, your majesty," Shane says. "Stop relying on outside influences, no matter how ridiculously attractive."

"I know it must be distracting, though," Brendon says. "Having such a hot adviser."

"Not especially, no," Ryan says. "I've known him since I was eight. Or nine, maybe, I could have been nine. It was around our birthdays."

"Eh, what do you know. You have gross taste," Brendon says, eyes lingering on Alex for a moment before he wrinkles up his nose.

"Hey," Ryan says, wounded. Alex huffs a laugh.

The bell rings for the end of lunch, and Shane holds out his hand, helping Brendon up for no real reason that Ryan can tell.

"Anyway," Shane says, "we're going to go talk some more at the jury, I think."

"Are we on now?" Brendon asks.

"I don't know, actually," Shane says. "We could go ask whatshisface. The prince's uncle. He seems cool."

"I don't think he likes me much, though," Brendon says.

"Psh," Shane says. "Anyway, it was nice catching up, princey."

"We'll see you," Brendon adds.

"I'd rather not, if it's cool," Ryan says, standing up too as they wander off. Alex hooks his chin over Ryan's shoulder, grinning a little, fingers hooked in Ryan's belt loops to steady himself.

"Hey," Ryan says, turning his face a little, and then he sighs and steps away.

"What?" Alex says, frowning, and then, "Oh, right."

"Dude, just—" and Ryan nods over to where DeLeon is clutching at his heart and pretending to swoon across the other side of the courtroom.

Alex laughs. "Seriously, is he allowed to be in here?"

"Probably not," Ryan says. "I can call security, or something."

"Does he have a camera?"

"I hope not," Ryan says seriously. "I don't want your fanclub to tear me to pieces."

"Dismember you," Alex says, "limb from limb."

"Render me -- wholeless."

"Wholeless?" Alex cracks up. "What the fuck?"

"Shut up," Ryan says. "I know it's unwhole, that was, that was a typo of the mouth, bitch—"

"You stole that from Sam," Alex says, still laughing. "Oh my god, wholeless."

"Shut up, come on, we're in public, show me the respect I deserve—"

"I'll wholeless you," Alex says.

\---

It's a long day, after that; the trial drags on, with lengthy speeches by both sides. There isn't, to Ryan's vague disappointment, any further questioning, but there's the promise it will resume in a week.

Alex hangs out in Ryan's room waiting for him, but he's back, and all he's good for is sleep.

Waking up again the next day, at least, is awfully nice. Ryan appreciates it, though he supposes Alex doesn't have much better to do at that time of night - either way, he's not sleeping in his own bed, so it can't make much difference where he lays his head as long as it's comfortable. Ryan's comfortable. He doesn't know that he should be, and keeps worrying, but hopefully he'll get over it soon enough.

He doesn't like having so many things on him at once. He's used to responsibility and a busy schedule, but this is responsibility and busy schedule and a trial and governing over huge swaths of territory, replete with angry old men who may or may not try to stage a rebellion at some point.

Most of those dudes are, according to his latest briefing, at least a little calmer. Ryan is looking forward to being able to ignore them again.

Ryan's up early this morning, so he nuzzles up close to Alex even though he doesn't think he'll manage to sleep any longer.

"Alex," Ryan whispers, even though Alex yet sleeps. "I have a secret, Alex."

Alex makes a sleepy noise, sounding contented enough.

"The secret," Ryan says, voice low and confidential, "is that you're great. Despite also being a jerk, I mean. Don't let anybody know. Not even yourself."

"Hmmm," Alex says, sighing a little and pulling Ryan in closer against him.

"Cool," Ryan says. "Thanks. Just -- keep it under your hat."

\---

Ryan's not entirely sure what's going on with the court, but apparently it's in session without the presence of witnesses or defendants or what-have-you, so he's not expected to be there. He spends the morning meeting with ambassadors instead, trying to reassure them that despite the recent changes he's still completely in control.

"Really, Mr Trohman," he says, to the last one before lunch, "I know that the media is going crazy at the moment, but it's important to retain our perspective. This will blow over, and the monarchy will be as secure as ever."

"Hmm," Trohman says. He's younger than a lot of ambassadors, but that's characteristic of Prime Minister Wentz's style. "Are you sure that's what you want, though, Your Majesty?"

Ryan blinks at him. "I'm sorry."

"You've just seemed very tired, these past few weeks," Trohman says, smiling almost kindly. "You know -- systems change all the time, societies change, and it doesn't hurt anyone. It's healthy."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Ryan says.

"It just feels like your heart hasn't really been in it, from our perspective," Trohman says.

Ryan draws in a breath. "I'm very sorry you feel that way," he says. "I -- things have been hectic, but I promise I do care, very deeply, about my responsibilities--"

"It's not a criticism," Trohman says. "It's a reminder. We know you're intelligent and loyal; we have no doubt you will do this job to the best of your ability. But sometimes things have to be about the good of your own self, as well as your country." He stands up, still smiling easily. "Something to think about."

"Um," Ryan says, a little off-balance, but he shakes Trohman's hand and sits down for a moment on his own before he goes to find out where the others are having lunch.

\---

It's only Alex and Z in the little offset of one of the dining rooms, when Ryan finds them, with Sam and Tennessee still embroiled in their endless poker tournament off to the side. Ryan comes and sits by Alex while a servant brings another plate in, hooks his leg over Alex's and says, "Hi."

"Hey," Alex says. "Where have you been?"

"Ambassadors giving me career advice," Ryan says.

"Smuggling's very profitable," Z says, "if you're looking."

Ryan laughs, but it hits a little close to home with what else he's thinking about, and he goes quiet, pushing his rice around on his plate without eating it.

Alex taps his head. "Hey. You in there?"

"No," Ryan says. "I've been possessed."

Alex picks up the salt and solemnly shakes it over Ryan's head. Ryan squawks, ducking away from him and laughing.

"Fuck off," he says, "asshole."

"Ah, there you are," Alex says. "Back home again."

"I hate you," Ryan says, dusting the salt out of his hair, grimacing when he feels it go down the back of his collar.

"That's recently-possessed code for 'you're so awesome', right?" Alex says.

"Fairly sure," Z says. "I mean, there's always nuances of meaning. You could replace 'awesome' with 'funny', maybe, or 'handsome'."

"Or 'great in bed'," Alex says. Z throws a bread roll at him.

"What have you guys been doing?" Ryan asks.

"Eh." Alex shrugs. "Wandering around getting in the way, mostly."

"Casing the joint," Z adds, winking at Ryan.

"The palace would probably look good on your resumes," Ryan agrees.

"A most profitable next job for us," Alex says.

"Yeah." Ryan concentrates on scooping up the right mix of all the different parts of the meal, rather than looking up. "When is your next job?"

"After the trial, I guess," Z says.

"Why don't you tell us," Alex says.

Ryan hesitates. "Why would I?"

"Oh, come on," Alex says. He grins at Z, who looks suddenly very guilty. "Z's poker face _sucks_ , and I don't think any of our old contacts would be racing to hire us after we got our faces splashed all over the news."

Ryan says, carefully, "I didn't want to--"

"I know," Alex says. "And I appreciate the gesture." He looks at Ryan warily. "I don't answer to you, do I?"

"No, come on," Ryan says. "I -- you guys are being outsourced, sort of thing, it's just. The palace managing it."

"Then we're cool," Alex says, and puts his hand over Ryan's knee to keep him from jittering it up and down.

"Probably it'll - bring you back here, sometimes. Your work, I mean. To the capital. Just occasionally." Ryan pauses. "Not ever for particularly long, but you're all welcome to - stay here, if you ever need to remain on-world overnight."

"Ooh-la-la," Z says.

"Just for that, I'm making you stay with the ship," Alex says.

"The royal shipyard has pretty good security—" Ryan starts, but Alex cuts him off.

"But Z is terrible and doesn't deserve the royal treatment, obviously."

Z sticks out her tongue, and Alex grins at her.

Ryan ducks his head a little, smiling to himself, and covers Alex's hand with his own.

\---

Ryan starts taking paperwork with him to the courtroom, because the case has shifted over to endless bickering. It goes to the jury at one point, but the decision isn't unanimous, so the case drags on even longer, with more evidence being dredged up on both sides. Mostly everyone expected this, but even the media starts to tire of it a little. Everything is still being broadcast, but - and Ryan starts laughing when he hears this - the ratings have dropped a bit. Yesterday, they were beaten out by reruns of _As the Station Turns_ in the middle of the day, and then later, the daily recap one of the news stations has taken to doing was half as long as usual and mostly replaced by an interview with an up-and-coming star promoting her latest film.

"You know," Alex says, thoughtfully. "I feel like the news gets what's going on better than I do, at this point."

"I think they're making things up so it'll sound better," Ryan says. He's sitting up in bed, only half paying attention to what's on the news. Instead, he busies himself reading briefings on recent political happenings on some of the other planets. Mostly he doesn't actually control what those planets do, though they're still subject to the overarching laws of the kingdom. There's a little autonomy, which means things shift on a constant basis, which means keeping up with it all can get a little ridiculous. He's just glad he's got advisers and people on staff to give him the condensed version.

"Probably," Alex agrees. He's quiet a moment, then starts staring at Ryan.

He keeps staring until Ryan says, "What?"

"Are you almost done?"

"You just asked that," Ryan says.

"Half an hour ago!"

"Twenty seven minutes ago."

Alex laughs a little, nuzzling up against Ryan's arm before pretending to bite the curve of his shoulder.

"What?" Ryan looks down at him, laughing, and Alex just grins.

"I'm gonna go to bed," Alex says.

"I'm sure that will be difficult. Since it's so far away."

"Yes." Alex sighs. "If only I had some gentle, noble soul to accompany me to my sleep."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it."

"It's a shame I don't know anybody like that, you jerk."

Ryan laughs, and finishes the paragraph he's currently reading before setting the reader aside on the bedside table and snuggling down under the covers more, stretching out next to Alex. He turns his head a little, fixing Alex with a wide-eyed stare. "Is that better?"

"Yes."

Ryan waves his hand around a little until the lights catch the movement and turn off. Ryan says, "So I guess this makes me gentle and—"

He stops talking when Alex kisses him, rolling on top of Ryan and tripping his fingers up over Ryan's ribs, holding himself up with a knee between Ryan's legs. Ryan says, "Mmf," and then drags Alex closer. He starts laughing when Alex sits up just enough to pull his shirt up off over his head, and Alex grins down at him.

"What?"

"To guide you to your sleep," Ryan says.

"Eh, I changed my mind," Alex tells him.

"I'm not so sure that's a wise decision." Ryan tilts his head to the side, considering for a moment, and then sits up and uses Alex's startled momentum to roll them over until Alex is beneath him. "I think some rest would be a very good thing," Ryan says earnestly, clasping their hands together and then pulling back when Alex tries to strain up to kiss him. "I'm not sure you've been getting your full quota."

"Come _here_ ," Alex says.

"Doctors recommend eight hours," Ryan says solemnly. "Every night. I'm not so sure you're living up to that."

" _Ryan_."

Ryan leans down and nips at Alex's bottom lip, sharp and reprimanding. "I am concerned about your health, that's all."

"You're concerned with being a jerk," Alex says, and pulls him down.

\---

Ryan's almost asleep, Alex curled around him, when Alex drags his teeth a little against the back of Ryan's neck and says, "You could come with me."

"Where?" Ryan asks sleepily.

"Away," Alex says, "when we go. There's room."

Ryan lies quietly for a moment, holding Alex's hand. He toys with Alex's fingers a little, so that Alex knows he isn't pretending to be asleep, because that's a bit of a dick move. "Yes," he says, eventually, "there's room."

"Not that you need much," Alex says. "You're pretty scrawny."

"Hey," Ryan says mildly.

Alex yawns, nuzzling in against Ryan's skin. "And we could see stuff properly, you know. Go visit the planets and things. We cover a lot of ground, it's -- you'd like it."

"I probably would," Ryan says.

"But you're not coming," Alex says, in exactly the same tone of voice as before.

"I can't, Alex," Ryan says. "You know that."

"I know you think you can't," Alex says.

Ryan breathes in, trying to match the pace of breaths to Alex's. "I can't just take off," Ryan says. "If nothing else, it would be a pretty shitty move after forcing everyone to watch an endless trial about me trying to hold onto the throne."

"I think you could turn the trial into the nature of the throne," Alex says. "I think you could find a way to use it to fix things. That would convince the jurors who voted against you."

"Alex," Ryan says.

"Yeah."

Ryan draws Alex's hand up to his mouth and kisses the centre of his palm. Alex shivers, pressed up against Ryan's back.

"I know," Alex says. "I know that it wouldn't -- that it's not going to work like that."

"Yup," Ryan says.

"I just thought I'd check."

"What," Ryan says, "because now we both feel so much better, having that conversation?"

"Just in case you needed the -- the offer, or whatever," Alex says. "You're kind of weird sometimes."

Ryan sighs. "You know," he says, sleepily. "You're very - I'm pretty fond of you. Even though you're a jerk and creepy and have, what was it, dead eyes."

"Thank you," Alex says. "But, wait, you can't just say that. Since when do I have dead eyes?"

"You're also unwashed and display and unprecedented lack of respect for the process of the law, for society, and for basic hygiene. Those are the big three. Nobody can decide if you're a fashion icon or not, though."

"I saw somebody wearing my coat the other day. I bought it like ten years ago. Clearly I know - what's still in style. Classic."

"I think they started making them again."

"Oh." Alex pauses. "What's all this about my eyes, though?"

"You have dead eyes," Ryan informs him mournfully. "Possibly indicative of having sold your soul."

"Well, damn."

Ryan yawns loudly. "It could just be a sign that you're, like. Evil."

"Right, yeah."

"So you should - think about that. While you sleep."

"I will. I'll dream a solution."

"Good."

\---

The trial is off for a few days for both sides to regroup and figure out how to present their cases again to convince the jurors in their favor this time around.

There's time to get a couple suits tailored for Alex, and Ryan insists on more than one - "Just in case!" He says. "You never know when you'll - get splashed with mud or something. You know. You need backups."

"How come I don't get new clothes?" Z asks, kicking back on her stool. "I'm hurt, your majesty. I thought we were friends."

"Your clothes are already great, Z," Ryan says. "It's just that Alex dresses so badly."

"Don't think you can win me over like that," Z warns. "You are transparent as hell." She grins.

Alex is flipping through the catalogue that the tailor has left sitting on the table while he bustles about comparing fabric colors. "Ryan," Alex says absently, "do you have a cape?"

"No," Ryan says. "Why?"

Alex holds up a picture, tapping it with his finger.

"Oh my god," Ryan says.

"Right?"

"I want it," Ryan says.

"Me, too," Alex says.

Ryan eyes Alex narrowly. "I'm Prince Regent."

"I spotted it first."

"I can make more than one?" the tailor volunteers, and Ryan grins.

\---

"Spencer," Ryan says, and Spencer looks up from where he's frowning over the latest court transcripts.

"What's up?"

"I was just -- wondering," Ryan says, and Spencer waits. Ryan stares, and then he shakes his head and sits down, says, "How's that verdict coming along?"

"Hopefully a little faster," Spencer says. He rubs his face with his hands. "I think it could be a week, maybe a fortnight. There's just a couple of jurors on the fence still, and as far as I can tell, it's not that they don't want you as much as they don't like the way you've handled this whole thing."

"Oh?"

"You know, indisputable rights to the throne, bla bla," Spencer says. "It's stupid, because it's not like you haven't already compromised on the -- being Prince Regent rather than King, so."

"Well, we've never had a Prince Regent before," Ryan says. "Like, people don't really know what it means."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "It could be anything, really. I think that's what they're annoyed at, some distinction between King and Prince Regent that -- isn't clear enough to exist. Or isn't clear in what it _is_."

Ryan stares. "I guess it could," he says.

"What?" Spencer blinks at him.

"Be anything," Ryan says.

"I don't -- Ryan. What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, yet," Ryan says. "I don't think, I just. Spencer, we don't know what I _am_."

"Yes?" Spencer says, drawing the vowel out.

"The jurors," Ryan says, sitting up a little, "I'm, are they republicans? Like, all power to the parliament and the people, that kind of thing?"

"The ones sitting on the fence? Yeah, I think so."

"This is what Ambassador Trohman was talking about," Ryan says. "This is. This is how we could make it work."

"Make _what_ work?" Spencer says plaintively.

"I'm -- Spence. Spence." Ryan shakes his head, grinning. "What do people need a prince for, like, that's the thing, right?"

"Dude," Spencer says, looking a little alarmed, "you're not going to _quit_?"

"No," Ryan says. "No, come on, I wouldn't, but -- what if we compromised."

"We've talked about this, Ryan," Spencer says.

"Have we? No, we haven't. I haven't really talked to anybody yet."

Spencer laughs "No, not about your mysterious schemes. About actually telling people what you're talking about. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm not actually capable of reading your mind. So."

"Oh. I just meant." Ryan pauses for a moment, closing his eyes, then looks back up at Spencer. "What if - we were to define the difference a little better."

"By not quitting."

"Yes, by not quitting," Ryan says, getting a little more enthusiastic. "Look, though, I mean if I were to - be more hands-on, right, if the difference between having a king and a regent is. Travel, right? Not just when there's a natural disaster and I need to make an appearance, but when things are all right, too, and talk more with - local government and people."

"It might help your image, I guess," Spencer says. "When parliament isn't in session."

"Right?" Ryan grins. "Plus, I could - you know. Drop in unannounced, sample the local cuisine."

"You just want an excuse to go on vacation." Spencer laughs. "It makes sense, though. Let me - I'll talk to some people, see if the concept is workable within the confines of the law."

"It had better be," Ryan says. "As long as we play it right, there's nothing actually - _forbidding_ I go places, right?"

"I don't know how much use it'll be in convincing the jury, though," Spencer says after a moment. "Since they're in seclusion and everything."

"Right," Ryan says. "Can we work it into the case, or is it sort of late to throw so much new information around? It might be a bit late."

Spencer frowns. "I'll talk to the legal team about it. I would have had to talk with them anyway."

"Right, of course," Ryan nods. He bites at his lip, thinking for another moment. He nods again, more to himself this time. "All right. Well, that's good."

Spencer gathers up the papers he's been looking over, rising to his feet. Before he leaves, he says, "Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope this works out."

"Me too," Ryan says, with a bit of a laugh. "Since it's my idea."

Ryan decides not to talk to anyone about it just yet, because he's had big grand ideas before that haven't gone anywhere before, and he doesn't really want to get his own hopes up, let alone anyone else's. He tries to concentrate on all the work at hand, the trial still going on and the public face he has to keep putting to that whenever journalists corner him, and all the legislation coming in at the moment. It was always going to be busy, he knows, but the trial is making it a little impossible to get on top of things.

Ryan's glad, in some ways. He still hasn't really thought that much about his dad. He's not sure if he wants to.

"So," Spencer says, a couple of days later, and shoves a folder at Ryan. "The thing is, we'd want it to be like -- a structured thing, not just you taking off whenever you felt like it."

"Right," Ryan says, rather than asking Spencer what he's talking about.

Spencer flips open the folder. The front page is a color-coded map of the territories, and a little timeline.

"I'm thinking half and half," Spencer says. "Six months a year travelling the universe—"

Ryan snorts. "Really?"

"Shut up, we haven't passed it through PR yet," Spencer says. "Six months back here, mostly to time with parliament being in session."

Ryan bites his lip to keep from smiling too big. "Okay. Where do we go from here?"

"You make a speech," Spencer says, "testing the waters, alluding to the idea, seeing what public reaction is. Then we go back to the legal team and refine it, and then we take it formally to parliament."

"Right," Ryan says. "When am I giving the speech?"

"You have to address the nation anyway on Friday," Spencer says, shrugging.

"Oh, hey," Ryan says. "First day of the month. I forgot."

"There you go," Spencer says.

\---

"So what's this for?" Alex asks, sitting on the bed and watching Ryan get dressed.

"Oh, come on," Ryan says. "You must have watched the monthly broadcasts."

"Eh," Alex says, shrugging. "I always found those a bit boring."

Ryan stares. "Dude."

"It was just your dad," Alex says, laughing a little. "It wasn't a personal snub."

"I've done them before!" Ryan says. "When Dad was away, or not well, or, you know, on special occasions—"

"Oh, I'm very sorry," Alex says. "I see now how wrong I was not to watch you give the palace spin on how great my life is."

"Your life is very great," Ryan says, leaning down to rest his hands on Alex's knees and look at him very seriously. "And do you know what it's due to?"

"I'm going to guess you and your awesome government," Alex says, grinning up at him.

"That's right," Ryan says. "I'm fighting on the frontlines for you."

"And other smugglers everywhere," Alex says.

"Exactly," Ryan says.

"Want to know a secret?"

Ryan leans in, eyes wide.

Alex whispers, "I'm not even sure I'm a citizen."

"What?" Ryan stares at him. "No, come on. You're kidding, right?"

"It's sort of complicated," Alex says.

" _Alex_ ," Ryan says. "C'mon, man. Why are you doing this to me?"

"It's what you keep me around for," Alex tells him seriously. "To make things confusing and complicated, I mean."

"How can you not know if you're a citizen? It's - there are records of these things," Ryan says. He pauses. "My staff have to have done a background check by now, they would have said if you weren't. Right? Unless they thought it was so obvious you're not."

"Mysteries abound," Alex says. "And I'm a proud enigma."

" _Alex_. Come on. How? How can you not know this? You have to be."

"I have to be? Are there laws and regulations?"

"No," Ryan says. "But you're clearly, I mean, you lived on Beta Pictoris. You're a citizen."

"I wasn't born there," Alex says. "I was born on a ship in neutral territory."

"But your parents," Ryan says. "Citizens. Ergo, you - also a citizen."

"Well, see," Alex says.

"Oh my god."

"What, are you going to - kick me out now or something?" Alex keeps his tone light, but Ryan can tell by his expression that he's a bit nervous. Ryan hopes his smile is suitably reassuring.

"No," Ryan says. "I'm just going to make a speech."

"About my dubious origins?"

"No."

"Good," Alex says.

"I could, though. Man, I was defending you as a citizen of my kingdom. You're taking away all my chances to be noble and - willing to sacrifice myself for the good of the people."

"I am not," Alex says. "Did you know, Jeff is a citizen. Also Sam."

"Where are the others from?"

"Here and here," Alex says, shrugging. "Around. Did you know, Tennessee is from not just the same planet, but in fact the exact same island nation as Chancellor Morrissey?"

"I did not," Ryan says. "And now I do. Thank you. Now I can make fun of her."

"Exactly, see. See. It doesn't matter if I'm a citizen or not. I provide you with valuable intelligence. C'mon."

Ryan says, "Do you think I should wear a hat?"

"Maybe," Alex says. "Definitely the cape, though. It's - does it get cold here? I don't know the weather patterns here at all. It has to get cold. You can bring capes in this season."

"Did you get yours? The tailor's been slacking, he hasn't finished mine yet." Ryan pauses. "Probably he's making it of nicer material, though, so that's some consolation, I guess."

"You can wear mine," Alex offers. "I can run and get it."

Ryan considers the offer for a moment. "People will notice the difference. The lining's different, and the hardware. Like. If you wear it later. These people _notice_ things, I swear."

"Let them notice," Alex says. "Maybe they'll think it's charming."

"Maybe," Ryan says, dubiously.

"You know that's something that happens sometimes, right. Sharing clothes."

"Why would you share clothes?"

Alex stares at him.

Ryan narrows his eyes. "You have to recognize when I'm kidding by now. Come on."

"That was _not_. You were being serious. Don't lie."

\---

Ryan feels pretty good about the speech he makes. There are a lot of concessions to be made about the trial, and the state of the kingdom - acknowledging issues, mentioning proposed solutions and what's being done while those solutions are finalized, and the like take up the bulk of his time. Toward the end, though, he gets a little more general, talking about the direction he wants to lead the entire kingdom on, various platitudes about strengthening the economy and creating closer bonds between the member planets, that kind of thing.

And then how he feels he should get to know the character of each and every world and its people, personally and more in depth; he laments having never tried some obscure dish from Andare II - and laughs at himself when he stumbles over its pronunciation, which hopefully will play well with the public - and talks about how he's interested in finding ways to better serve the people.

He can't really decide if he's eager or dreading to see how the address polls, particularly that segment. He knows some people will dislike it no matter what - solely because there are some people who dislike _him_ no matter what. Ryan knows that, but he's hoping.

He tries not to hover around Spencer too much for the next few days, even though he's really impatient to find out what's going on. He's pretty sure he does it a little anyway, because Spencer looks torn between annoyance and amusement, but he holds himself back a little.

He's sitting with Alex one evening, after dinner but before he has to go off and meet with a couple of official advisers, and Alex is half sprawled across his lap, lying drowsily on the couch and talking about the time he and Z were mistaken as living in blasphemy on some ultra-religious planet and were chased around with holy fire ready to be cleansed. It takes Ryan a moment to notice Spencer at the door, because it's a pretty funny story and also he's preoccupied with trying to smooth down a rogue lock of Alex's hair.

When he finally looks up, Spencer is looking kind of amused, and he raises his eyebrows meaningfully at Ryan.

"Oh!" Ryan says, and stands up fast enough that Alex rolls off the couch and onto the floor, yelping indignantly. Ryan laughs. "Sorry," he says, "sorry, sorry, I'll be right back—" and then he follows Spencer out into the hall, Spencer closing the door behind them.

"So the main problem is that a lot of people misinterpreted you as saying you wanted an extended holiday," Spencer says, starting in on it immediately. "Which can be cleared up as soon as you're direct about what it is you're doing."

"Other opinions?" Ryan asks.

"Lots of positive response to the idea of understanding people," Spencer says, running his finger down his notes. "And to the idea of a more hands-on role. General concern about ruining tradition, you're going to have to be careful there, especially with older generations."

"Is it -- it's doable," Ryan says. "That's what you're saying?"

"I'm saying, we take it back to the legal counsel, we work out if you're even allowed to do this, we, you know. There's stuff to do, Ryan. It's a process."

"Right," Ryan says. He grins. "No, I know."

"Okay," Spencer says, and looks at him fondly. "What do I do, anyway, when you're off travelling?"

"You could come with us," Ryan suggests. He's pretty sure the crew won't mind. They seem to like Spencer well enough.

"Or I could get a holiday of my own," Spencer says, waggling his eyebrows.

"Brendon and Shane would probably take you in," Ryan says. "Panic!'s a lovely space station. They have a pool."

"Fuck you," Spencer says. "See if I enable you anymore."

"Come on, this isn't enabling," Ryan says. "You're performing your duty as my adviser and as a loyal servant of the crown."

Spencer laughs, a little helplessly. "Yeah, you know, maybe you being away from here six months at a go is for the best."

"What?"

"Never mind," Spencer says. He's grinning pretty big, though. Ryan thinks that's a good sign.

\---

"So what was that all about?" Alex asks, hardly looking up from the TV report he's watching.

"Oh, going over the public reception of my latest speech," Ryan says.

"And that was top-secret business that had to be done in another room?"

"Yes," Ryan says.

"Why, is there like - incriminating data? I bet you secretly kill people who don't like you. Fill out a poll, say you think the speech was shit, and bam, you're done."

"Well, yes," Ryan says. "Yeah, of course. That's how it generally works in hellish, despotic dictatorships."

"S'what I thought," Alex says. He pauses a moment. "Hey, though. Are we actually avoiding you answering my question, or just - getting off track because we're both incredibly clever?"

"Off track," Ryan says. "But now that you've mentioned it, we could _totally_ avoid whatever you're talking about."

Alex squints at him suspiciously. "Is this a matter of life and death national security?"

"Absolutely," Ryan says.

"Is it really?"

"No," Ryan says. He grins at Alex, and Alex laughs, short and uncertain. Ryan stands up. "I have to go be told what to do for a while. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," Alex says, and Ryan touches his hair as he walks past.

\---

When later comes, it's almost midnight and Alex isn't in Ryan's bed. Ryan stands there for a moment, unsure in the doorway, and then he goes back down to check the kitchen and the music room and the room they were hanging out in before. He doesn't really want to check Alex's room, but he does anyway, and there's something small and unhappy in his throat when he knocks on the door and Alex calls, "Yeah?"

Ryan opens it.

"Oh, hey," Alex says, putting his book down and smiling up at Ryan.

"Why are you here?" Ryan asks, hesitantly.

Alex's face clouds for a moment. Then he nods. "Because I'm very, very mad at you."

"About the -- about earlier?" Ryan folds his arms, curling his fingers in the material of his shirt.

"What? Oh, yes," Alex says. "Because you wouldn't tell me what it was about. That's right."

"Alex," Ryan says. "What's going on?"

Alex sighs, sitting upright. "I got lost," he says. "And I couldn't find your room, but then I found this corridor by luck, so. I decided it was best not to go wandering around again."

Ryan blinks, and then starts to smile. "Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Why didn't you ask someone for help?" Ryan asks, because the corridors here are never deserted for that long, and there's usually some security outside the library, too, which is close by.

"I thought it was pretty ridiculous," Alex says. "You know, on account of how I've been here for weeks now. And I'm usually good at this."

"At not getting lost?" Ryan's grinning kind of stupidly now, and Alex rolls his eyes. Ryan laughs, coming over to him and saying, "Sorry. I'm not judging you."

"Good," Alex says. "Because I'd have to remind you about the _two_ times you didn't notice you were being kidnapped."

"I'm a trusting soul," Ryan says. "And also tired. I'm a tired soul."

"Okay, well." Alex stands up and pushes Ryan's hair behind his ear, hand lingering on Ryan's cheek. "Possibly bedtime is the answer to that little dilemma." Ryan tilts his chin up and Alex laughs and leans in, resting his forehead against Ryan's for a moment, not going any closer. Ryan keeps his eyes open, watching Alex's face smooth, the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheek. It's strange, he thinks, because he hasn't really -- had anyone around when he was really busy before, or even hung out with someone as a friend before they started messing around. Ryan wonders if that's what engendered this strange sort of domesticity, even though he doesn't like that name for it.

For the most part, Alex is quieter in some ways than the other people Ryan's dated, in the way he touches Ryan, and Ryan's not sure how that correlates with his racing heart.

It's interesting, anyway.

"Yes," Ryan says belatedly, and Alex moves back so Ryan can get undressed. It's getting colder again, too cold to sleep just in his boxers, even with Alex there, so Ryan goes and steals a t-shirt from Alex's bag. Alex makes a face at him from the bed, and Ryan laughs and turns the lights off, makes his way across the room as carefully as possible.

He still trips over the bed, not expecting it, and lands sprawled half on top of Alex. Alex wheezes, all the breath knocked out of him, and Ryan clambers awkwardly over him and in under the covers, tucking his cold feet between Alex's shins.

"You're a menace," Alex says.

"Thanks," Ryan says.

"Hey," Alex says, "you gonna tell me what was going on earlier?"

Ryan hesitates. "It's -- okay, but, like. You've got to remember that it's not for sure. Nothing's ever really certain in this business until it happens."

"Okay," Alex says. "Mysterious and intriguing, yes. Do go on."

"I was just -- that speech, the other day," Ryan says. "What did you think about the end part?"

"The stuff about you wanting to know your own people better?" Alex sounds confused. "It was cool? I don't know, I didn't really think about it."

"Okay," Ryan says. "Well, I just. Basically we're trying to see whether there's a possibility of me, like. Spending six months a year in the palace, and then six months travelling all across the systems, you know."

Alex is silent for a moment. Then he says, voice very careful, "Six months?"

"If you still have room on your ship," Ryan says. He tilts his head up cautiously. His eyes have adjusted enough to the dark now that he can see Alex's face. Alex's mouth is slightly open, and his eyes are shining.

"Yeah," Alex says, sounding almost breathless. "Yeah, I think we can. Can manage that."

"It's, you know, still not certain," Ryan says. "Obviously. But you'd - you could still do other work. There are a lot of logistics to sort out, obviously your crew would all get paid."

"Good, yeah," Alex says, beaming big and wide. "Give them a chance to retire early when they get tired of hauling your scrawny ass around."

"Exactly," Ryan says.

"Ryan," Alex says, pulling Ryan down close and nuzzling at his neck. "Man."

"Yeah."

Alex says, "Do you get to - I mean, six months, that's a long time."

"A dozen planets, Alex. Not to mention all the other stupid shit drifting around."

Alex gasps, feigning offense. "You majesty, did you just call all those - space stations and colonies and whatever-the-fuck 'stupid shit'?"

"I'm being sincere and candid," Ryan says. "I hear the people like that."

He feels, more than hears, Alex's laughter. "I don't know how much the colonists'd like it, but sure."

"No, they'd love it. They know their homes are just extraneous bullshit."

"Oh my god."

Ryan says, "You know I'm kidding, right?"

"Yeah. Still."

"I have to bring peace and understanding to all my people. Even the dumb ones."

"Thanks."

"I - damn it, Alex."

"What?"

"I'm never going to get to sleep, am I?"

Alex has to grope around a little but he covers Ryan's eyes with one hand. "Shh."

"That's not helping."

"Is too."

\---

"Hey, your majesty," Suarez says. "Hey."

"Hm?" Ryan looks up, blinking blearily.

"You may want to stay awake, sir."

"Oh, well." Ryan rubs at his eyes. "If you say so."

At least court isn't actually in session yet; the judge is a few minutes late this morning.

The point of court this morning, as far as Ryan can tell, seems to be Suarez and the prosecutor giving stirring speeches, and then the jurors announcing that they are taking a little more time to think things over. They also give a deadline, though: the official decision, they say, will be reached for certain in three days time.

Ryan passes a note to Spencer. _we going to announce our plans before that?_

 _might give it a try_ , Spencer writes back. _have to see if it's going to get picked up as us changing the game at the last minute, but if not, it might help swing the last few votes back over to us_.

Ryan nods to himself and looks across the room almost despite himself to where Alex is talking to Jeff. He's smiling even though he's not looking at Ryan, eyes bright even though he has to be as tired as Ryan -- he woke up at the same time, anyway.

Ryan's a little nervous about that, wondering if maybe he shouldn't have told Alex after all, but. It's good in another kind of way to see this reaction. It makes Ryan feel smug and a little giddy himself, anyway.

\---

He almost walks in straight away, when he hears Alex and Z's voices, but Z sounds serious and low, and Ryan hesitates outside the door.

"Don't tell anyone," Alex says. "Not yet, anyway. It's -- you know, nothing's official yet."

"Right," Z says. "Yes, I just. Alex. Don't, you know."

"What?" Alex says. From Ryan's somewhat bad vantage point, he can see Alex folding his arms defensively. "I'm not doing anything, I'm just -- letting you know, about, about a thing that might happen."

"Yeah, I know," Z says, "but I just think, it's so -- I've never heard of anything like it, and you shouldn't get your hopes up or anything, you know."

"It's okay to be excited about something," Alex says stubbornly. "I'm not -- relying on it or whatever, but I'm not going to pretend I'm not glad."

"Alex," Z says, sounding a little frustrated. "Come on, I'm not trying to have a go at you or be mean or whatever, I'm just saying, you were all happy when we were heading off to Greta's for an indefinite period of time and that didn't work out—"

"That wasn't his fault," Alex says. "His fucking dad died, c'mon—"

"I'm not saying it was his fault," Z says. "But outside forces play a role here, you can't forget that. It's not just about him telling you something."

"I know that," Alex says.

"Really?" Z says, gentle. "Or are you just saying that?"

"Z."

"I just don't want to see you all -- messed up again, okay."

"It's different," Alex says, and sounds like he's going to say more. Ryan wants to hear it, but at the same time, he thinks probably this isn't the okay kind of eavesdropping, so he turns and slips away, back towards the courtroom.

\---

"Three days," Ryan says, thoughtfully. "Does that include today? Spence. Hey. Hey. Listen to me."

"No."

"Fuck you, I'm prince regent," Ryan says.

"Exactly."

Ryan says, "Fine, whatever. Do you know if those three days - include today? Or if it's three days from ... today but starting tomorrow. Or what?

"Uh," Spencer says. "They'll have a decision by Thursday."

"Oh."

"Was that really that difficult to figure out?"

Ryan yawns loudly. "Do I look well-rested right now? I'm asking you honestly."

"No," Spencer admits, and steps in a little closer to sort of examine Ryan. "Christ."

"What?"

Spencer shakes his head. "I need to - do a better job at my job, I guess. I'm going to formally advise you try to actually sleep, though."

"You're the one always bringing me more work," Ryan says, despairing a little. It's not fair, he doesn't think, for Spencer to tell him to sleep more.

"At least finish a meal at some point."

"Okay," Ryan says. "It's not like I - set out. Not to finish things. I'm just too tired to be hungry."

Spencer frowns, face getting that look it does when Spencer has _ideas_ , and Ryan worries a little about that. Then again, probably it's all for his benefit. He won't second-guess Spencer this early in the game.

\---

"I've been officially charged with making sure you get some sleep," Alex says as Ryan's looking over more paperwork in his office. It's maybe nine thirty, only barely. He looks up, blinking.

"But I've got stuff."

"Sleep," Alex says. "Big day tomorrow."

"Come on," Ryan says, looking back down and trying to ignore Alex. He's reread the same sentence at least seven times now, trying to parse it, but the words aren't making proper sense anymore. None of them are even difficult words or anything. They're all just sort of swimmy and tough to track, and Ryan shrugs and signs anyway because he's pretty sure he remembers it just being some planet wanting authorization to start on a new public works project at a scale that needed the royal go-ahead. Something with a fountain.

Alex says, "Are they building a statue of me?"

Ryan peers down at the paper. "Are they? Huh. It might not look good that I just authorized that. Kind of - egotistical."

"Yeah, okay, you need to sleep," Alex says. "I'm not reading your important legal documents or whatever for you."

"No, I know," Ryan says, and pauses. "Wait. Wait, so there's no statue?"

"No," Alex says.

"Oh, good."

Alex steps over, turning Ryan's chair a bit though Ryan drags his feet. He leans down, hooking his arm around Ryan's and pulling the prince regent to his feet. "Here we go."

"I don't think I get sick days," Ryan says.

"Eh."

"Alex," Ryan whines, but lets himself be taken to his room. A security guard or two stops them along the way, making sure that Ryan is all right and Alex isn't about to kidnap him again.

Once at his room, Ryan manages to take off a shoe and his watch, as well as his jacket. He also undoes one button of his shirt. Then he sort of sits there, blearily, fumbling with the next one down, until Alex laughs and intervenes. Alex takes his scarf off for him, first, which helps make it easier to get to the second button anyway.

"Oh," Ryan says, impressed. "That's how that works."

"Yes. Buttons are - pretty advanced technology, I know," Alex says. "In this modern era of interstellar travel and all. Very complicated stuff."

"They were invented ahead of their time."

"Hey, arms - there we go," Alex says, manhandling Ryan a bit to get him to cooperate in the undressing process. He's gentle about it, though, very careful and calm even in doing things like unbuttoning Ryan's trousers. "Up. Good."

"Alex," Ryan says, after Alex has tossed his trousers aside.

"I'm not going to fold those for you," Alex says.

"That's not what I was gonna say," Ryan says.

"Oh."

Alex waits a moment, but Ryan is trying to remember what his point was. He can't quite manage the feat so he just shoves at the covers and manages to get himself into bed, eyes half-closed already by the time Alex climbs in next to him.

"Alex," Ryan says again, even though he is very nearly asleep. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Alex says, and maybe he adds more to that sentence but Ryan doesn't hear any of it.

\---

Ryan's not sure what Alex and Spencer combine to do, but it's pretty impressive, because he sleeps straight through until the next day, waking up without assistance of an alarm clock or a servant shaking him. He opens his eyes to find Alex is gone, but he can hear the sound of the shower in the connected bathroom. His head feels fuzzy and warm, but for once he doesn't want to roll right over and go back to sleep again, or, failing that, to die.

Mornings have been a bit of a struggle lately.

Ryan sits up, rubbing his eyes, and the bathroom door opens. Alex comes in wearing his jeans and towelling his hair dry, and he waves when he sees Ryan's up.

"Morning," Alex says.

"What time is it?" Ryan asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Uh, eight." Alex picks up a watch that's been left on the chair. "Thirty."

Ryan stares. "Seriously?"

"No, I'm lying," Alex says. "It's my great mission in life, to trick people about the time."

"That would be quite a useful mission," Ryan points out. "Like, you'd never have to kill any of your enemies, you'd just make sure that they never show up to things on time -- no, anyway. That's like. Ten hours sleep."

"Yes," Alex agrees, pulling a sweater on over his head and grinning at Ryan a little. "You look less like a zombie today, in case you're wondering."

"I -- what?"

"Your cheeks are pink and everything," Alex adds, with a wicked look, and Ryan hides his face against his pulled up knees, only his eyes peering out over the top. Alex laughs.

"I'm going to be really late," Ryan says. "For -- what do I have first today? I'm going to be so late."

"Nah," Alex says. He throws some clothes at Ryan. "Someone dropped these round for you. You want to shower?"

Ryan picks up the clothes. "I can't wear these," he says, fingering the denim regretfully. "It's – not in meetings."

"You don't have any of those today," Alex says.

Ryan blinks. "What?"

"No meetings," Alex says. "And no court, either, while the jury are still in seclusion."

"So it's just paperwork today?" Ryan makes a face. He can go through the paperwork in casual clothes, but it gets tedious in a way that even meetings don't.

"No, none of that, either," Alex says, dropping his towel and coming to sit next to Ryan on the bed. "Hi." He kisses Ryan, mouth minty from toothpaste, and Ryan feels kind of bad that he hasn't brushed his teeth yet. He doesn't pull away, though, lets Alex do that.

"Alex," he says. "I have to do work."

"The question is how you're going to do it," Alex says, "without the keys to your office."

"I have my keys," Ryan says, and looks to the dressing table where he drops his keys every night.

They're not there.

"Alex."

"Don't look at me," Alex says, innocently. "I just did as Spencer told me."

"I can't have a day off just now," Ryan says. "It's too—"

"Spencer disagrees, apparently," Alex says. "I have been tasked with distracting you for a day, in order that you do not pass out in the middle of some important speech you have to give tomorrow. This involves sleep and full meals and taking it easy. Spencer was very firm. I have my orders."

"I'm your Prince Regent," Ryan says, even though he's smiling a little bit now.

"Ah, but you might not be," Alex says, grinning at him. "Remember?"

Ryan shakes his head dourly. "I'm still so pissed off about that. Whose citizen are you, then?"

"I could be yours," Alex says. "I think I could also be one of the independents. Or _maybe_ Prince Jonathan's."

" _What_?"

Alex cracks up laughing.

"That's not funny," Ryan says. "Jerk."

Alex flops backwards on the bed, still laughing.

Ryan is about to explain why it would be so much better for Alex's welfare and also state of mind if he was a citizen of Ryan's kingdom, when he notices that Alex is still lying sprawled out on the bed, smelling clean and good with his sweater riding up a little. Ryan crawls out from under the blankets in order to straddle Alex, grinning down at him.

"I just got clean," Alex points out.

Ryan leans down to bite at his neck, short and sharp. "I don't mind. You can even share my shower after, if you want."

"How very generous," Alex says.

"I am," Ryan agrees.

"Definitely," Alex says, and lets Ryan bend down and kiss him for a moment, before he gently pushes Ryan upright and then sits up too, steadying Ryan with his hands on Ryan's hips. "But we have breakfast with the crew and Spencer in a little while. I was just about to wake you."

"I can be quick," Ryan says.

"Not quick enough," Alex tells him, grinning, and gives Ryan a shove in the direction of the bathroom. Ryan goes, glowering a little.

"But hey," Alex says, and Ryan turns at the door. Alex stretches lazily. "A whole day, remember," he says.

Ryan kind of approves of this plan after all.

\---

"Okay," Ryan says, feeling much more awake now he's eaten. "Can we go now?"

"No," Spencer says. "You can't."

"What? Spence."

"Finish your breakfast."

" _Spence_. It's the _crust_."

"So?"

Ryan sighs, reluctantly. It's not that he doesn't like the crust or anything. He just didn't really feel like eating it, today, which apparently was the wrong choice. Spencer is staring at him while he finishes. The crew, meanwhile, are trying - with varying degrees of success - not to laugh.

"You're all terrible people," Ryan says. "I should have you all beheaded. Spence, did we ever figure out if there was still a guillotine?"

"Museum piece," Spence says. "They'd have to sharpen the blade."

"No, they wouldn't," Ryan says. "You. All of you. Dull blade."

Z laughs. "That'd be a great way to start off your reign. A really classy move when you're barely into your first hundred days."

"Right?" Spencer says. "I mean, I see now fault with the idea. Honestly, I don't know why we haven't just executed everyone even vaguely annoying _already_."

"Because of my benevolence." Ryan sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I aim to be a kindly ruler, beloved by the people. But they'd, you know. They'd understand. Since you guys are jerks."

"What about me, do I count?" Alex asks.

"Yes," Ryan tells him sadly. "But I wouldn't kill you. You'd just have to be my personal servant for the rest of your days."

"Tragic."

"I'd make you do my laundry."

"See, now, that's just cruel and unusual," Alex says. "Your constitution prevents that kind of thing, right?"

"It's not _my_ constitution. I didn't write it."

Sam says, "They can always amend the constitution, anyway. Add a part saying it's legal to make captains named Alex do stupid shit because they're jerks."

"Right," Ryan says. "We'd follow the rule of law."

"Well. As long as it was legal."

"Sure," Ryan says. "You can count on that, I promise, everything will be -- absolutely within the boundary of the law." He turns in his seat. "Alex. Can we go now."

"You haven't had any fruit," Spencer says.

"Spencer," Ryan says. "You're not my mom. Fuck off. Alex."

Alex looks at him, wide-eyed. "You haven't had any fruit, Ryan," he says, and leans across the table to fistbump Spencer.

Ryan stares at him. "What's _wrong_ with you?"

Alex bites his lip. It's probably to keep from laughing, but Ryan feels like it's a deliberate and malicious attempt to drive him crazy.

"Fine," he snaps, and reaches for a mandarin, digging his thumbnail into the peel and stripping it off as quickly as he can. He eats quickly, too, no longer bothering to engage in the rest of the conversation or even appeal polite. They're all jerks, and Ryan hates them.

"Don't choke there, Ryan," Laena tells him, and Ryan glares at her, too. Z starts laughing, low and delighted.

"After breakfast," Spencer says, when Ryan's down to the last two pieces of his mandarin, "I thought we might all go for a walk, up through the grounds. We might head for the wood nearby."

"You're kidding," Ryan says, in as commanding a voice as he can muster.

"I think some fresh air is a good idea," Spencer says. "Fresh air and exercise. It snowed again overnight, too, that will be nice."

"Do you think ruining my life is also a good idea?" Ryan says desperately, and then everyone's laughing at him again. Ryan turns to Alex, who's grinning, too, and says, "Why are you so amused, anyway?"

"A whole day," Alex says, leaning in a little so only Ryan can hear.

"Not if Spencer keeps up with the new health regime," Ryan says. Alex puts his hand on Ryan's knee, drawing idle circles with his finger against the cloth.

"You can wait," Alex says, soft. "It makes it more fun."

"That wouldn't be my choice of word," Ryan says, but Alex is still leaning in close to him, eyes warm and intent, and his hand is firm on Ryan's knee. Ryan swallows, mouth dry.

"Let's just try it my way for once," Alex says, and kisses Ryan just once, quick and light.

"Dude," about five people say at once.

\---

"Don't forget your jacket, your majesty," Spencer says.

Ryan scowls at him. "Now you're just being a jerk."

"It's - an excuse to wear your cape," Alex says, laughing. "Matching capes. Come on."

"If you insist," Ryan says, still making a bit of a face.

"I do," Alex says.

"Aww," Z says, fluttering her eyelashes. "Spence, tell me there'll be a photo op. They're _matching_."

Spencer looks unduly excited by the prospect. "We have people on staff, yeah."

"No, Spence, come on."

"It'll get people excited," Spencer says. "And he's clean, for once, so it'll be good press."

"I'm clean a lot of the time," Alex says.

"Sure, now that you're being forced to shower," Z says. "Don't be fooled, Spencer."

"I'm not."

" _Guys_ ," Alex says. "I'm really not that bad."

"It's okay," Ryan tells him, patting him soothingly on the shoulder while they wait for someone to fetch their ridiculous outerwear. He leans in, allowing himself to sniff at the back of Alex's neck for just a second. He's feeling pretty indulgent today, even though the world is conspiring against him. "I don't mind."

When they start outside, there's a little group of people on the opposite side of the lawns. Ryan squints at them, and then says, "Spence. You didn't."

"Dude, you want to go off and have adventures? Appeal to your public," Spencer says unrepentantly. "People eat this shit up."

"Okay, first off, our pure and immortal lo—dedication to each other is not shit," Ryan says, while Z cackles in the background. "Second off, you _tipped off_ the paparazzi, do you have any idea how creepy that is? Third off—"

"Adventures," Alex says.

"Exactly," Ryan says, and then, "No! Wait—"

"Oh, shut up," Spencer says, thwacking him across the back of the head. "If you don't want the pictures to be taken, go walk next to Jeff."

Jeff is standing very far away from Alex, Ryan notices, wandering a little way behind talking to Sam. Ryan scowls at Spencer but doesn't move away, holding onto Alex's hand. Alex looks down at him, a little unsure, and Ryan raises his eyebrows.

"Okay?" he asks.

Alex just keeps looking at him, smiling very slightly in the corner of his mouth. "Yes," he says, after a moment, and Ryan leans against him a little. The ground is white and untouched by anyone else this morning, and there are little icicles of snow hanging off some of the plants, and their breath is fogging up the air in front of them. It's nice, really; the palace is such a moderated temperature all over that it feels comfortable in a fake sort of way. Ryan's always startled, stepping outside, but it always makes him feel better, too.

They kind of wander away from each other at various points. Ryan can still see the rest of the group, but they're spread out, in little clumps, and Ryan's quite content to wander along quietly holding Alex's hand. The paparazzi are a little distracting, in the corner of his eye, but they're not allowed to come any closer, and Ryan can deal.

"So the trial," Alex says.

"Yeah." Ryan scratches his head awkwardly. "That's -- happening."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little," Ryan admits. He turns to look at Alex, stopping walking. "I really want this to work out."

"The trial?"

"The trial, and -- the whole idea," Ryan says. "Everything, I just want to." He swallows hard.

"Yeah," Alex says.

"Keep hanging out with you," Ryan says, "for a while longer."

Alex says, "Well, you know. I'll let you know when I'm bored of you."

"Oh, thanks," Ryan says. "Greatly appreciated."

"I'm generous," Alex says. "It's because I wasn't raised as a spoilt, bratty prince, you know. Amazing what it can do to your worldview."

"Oh, fuck you," Ryan says, laughing, and shoves Alex, sending him laughing and tripping back across the ground. Alex tugs him in and Ryan half tackles him, both of them stumbling around and hanging onto each other. It must look pretty stupid, and Ryan just knows photos of this are going to show up in all the tabloids tomorrow, but he can't bring himself to care. He hangs onto the back of Alex's cape and presses his face into Alex's neck.

"You're a jerk," he whispers, tilting his head so his mouth is brushing Alex's ear.

"I thought that was what you kept me around for," Alex whispers back, and the tree line is close, so Ryan tugs Alex towards it, in through the first trees until the air smells green and crisp and sweet and Ryan's pretty sure no one's going to be able to take a good photo, even with all the best zoom-in technology. He holds onto Alex, hugging him close.

"Hey," Alex says, sounding a little surprised.

Ryan tilts his head up, smiling at him. "I think it's going to start snowing."

"Ugh," Alex says.

Ryan laughs. "What's wrong with you?"

"Snow," Alex says. "It's pretty gross."

"Not when we have a palace, like, right there," Ryan says. "With clothes and baths and -- the point is, snow."

"How long does it snow here for?" Alex asks.

"Just the next two months of winter," Ryan says. "Leading up to Christmas."

"Oh, that's right," Alex says. "Spring Christmas here, right?"

"Uh-huh," Ryan says. "When I was a kid, me and my dad would decorate the tree with cherry blossoms."

"Really?"

"Well, our personal tree. Not the big official ones around the place." He pauses. "Where you grew up. When was Christmas?"

"Ah." Alex pauses to think for a moment. "Like, during the rainy months? I lived further south. Or, closer to the equator, I guess. So it never got super cold, just kind of - rained for a while."

"Hmm." Ryan makes a face. "Sounds boring."

"Eh." Alex shrugs. "Not a big deal. My family doesn't do Christmas."

Ryan blinks at him, confused. "You _don't_? I guess that's not that weird, but - really?"

"Really. It was nice for the time of from school, though," Alex says, consolingly. "We'd go catch frogs and stuff down by the river."

Ryan laughs a little. "Did you give them little hats?"

"No, unfortunately," Alex says. He frowns, thinking back. "I don't really know what that was all about, actually. We didn't eat 'em. Or my family didn't, anyway. I kept some as pets but then Mom made me let them go."

"I had a dog for a while," Ryan offers. He walks in a little circle, just so he can look at his footprints in the crisp white snow. He looks up again, considering. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

Ryan grins, crouching down to scoop some snow into a ball. He shrugs in the others' direction. "Sneak attack?"

Alex beams down at him. "I like the way you think."

\---

Heading outside means there's a security detail keeping vague watch over things - hanging back, but there just in case the palace grounds' defenses should be breached or whatever.

None of them have actually seen the Prince Regent involved in a snowball fight before, and even though Ryan's the first to attack they try and stop Z from getting her revenge.

"Guys," Ryan says, waving his arms. "It's okay. I don't need saving right now."

Z glowers a bit until they unhand her. "Just for that," she says, and packs her next snowball a little tighter - not enough that it hurts, but. Ryan tries to dodge and doesn't quite succeed.

Security aren't too pleased with that, either, until Ryan starts laughing. "Oh, jeez, seriously, can you all just. Go over there unless you're gonna be involved, come on."

"Your majesty—"

"It's all right," Spencer says. "Do as he says."

"Yes, sir."

Ryan frowns at Spencer. "Why can _you_ get them to go away and I can't?"

"You got kidnapped once, Ryan."

"I'm not gonna get kidnapped on palace grounds. Come on."

"Uhm," Z says, lifting her hand a little.

"Shut up," Ryan says. "All of you. Now."

Then Alex gets Spencer square in the back with another snowball, and it's war.

Ryan's actually doing pretty well, considering. Sam and Darren get him a few times, but they've made a sneaky team and are really quick at getting away, so Ryan decides to ignore the snowballs that hit his shoulder with unnerving precision every couple of minutes and focus on achievable targets. Z is a flash of bright yellow against the snow, and Ryan aims carefully and throws as hard as he can.

Z ducks.

" _Dude_ ," Alex says, and Ryan starts laughing. Alex glares at him, as best he can through a faceful of snow. "We're on the same team!"

"I'm sorry," Ryan says, but it doesn't come out very loudly, because he's half bent over with laughter. Spencer is leaning against a tree, wiping delighted tears from his eyes.

"Hey, Ryan," Tennessee says, "you can join my team, if you like."

"That just means he'll start hitting _you_ in the face," Alex says.

"Oh, come on," Ryan says. "You got in the way."

Alex gets a slightly evil look on his face. "Really," he says.

Ryan backs away, hands held up. "C'mon, man, don't do anything—"

Alex glances at Z.

"—you're going to regret!" Ryan says urgently. "Alex!"

Alex lunges, and Ryan ducks out of the way, laughing again, trying not to fall over with the force of his own momentum. He runs as fast as he can, dodging the various snowballs people are throwing at him, and heads towards Spencer with a vaguely hopeful air.

Spencer packs a snowball tightly, grinning at Ryan and beckoning him closer, which is a very bad sign. Ryan makes a face and swerves, and Z slams into his back. They go over together fast, and Ryan wheezes as he hits the snow, trying to breathe through being winded.

"Hi, Your Majesty," Z says, manoeuvring until she's sitting on top of him and reaching over his head for a handful of snow.

"Oh, no," Ryan says, grabbing her wrist and trying to pull her backwards, or push her off, something. "No, no -- help! Somebody!"

Alex skids to his knees beside them, clutching two snowballs.

"Alex!" Ryan says, struggling. "Save me!"

"Captain?" Z says.

"Affirmative," Alex says, and then they're both shoving snow down Ryan's collar, and Ryan's squirming and shouting and laughing helplessly.

"You're going to _ruin my cape_ ," he says, and Alex grins down at him, pink-cheeked and pleased.

Ryan manages to roll over, and get enough purchase with his hands to get a handful of snow. He makes a tactical decision to go for Alex, because Z is clearly too clever and crafty by far. Also, it's just funnier smushing snow against Alex's face.

"Alas, I am betrayed," Alex declares, overdramatic. He flops over on his back in the snow, trying to look tragic.

Ryan takes the chance to wriggle out away from the both of them. Z gets him on his retreat, but he finds where Jeff and Annie have been cheerfully constructing a fort.

"Guys," he says, urgently. "Guys, let me join you, okay, I'll give you - I'll have them make you whatever you want for dinner."

"Hmm," Annie says. "I don't know how I feel about bribery."

"It's not bribery," Ryan says. "We're bartering."

"C'mon, c'mon," Jeff says. They've got a little pile of snowballs behind their wall of snow, even. It's a good spot to throw from as people run by. With a third person behind it, the fort needs a little more building up, but the work goes quick and they don't suffer too much damage in the process. Ryan feels quite pleased with himself, managing to get revenge on Darren and Z both. At one point he hits Tennessee, on accident, while aiming for Spencer.

He starts to call out an apology, but standing up means a snowball to the chest, so he crouches back down behind the low barrier again.

They kill nearly an hour's worth of time on that, before Ryan decides his hands are too cold. Everyone else is awfully tired anyway, so he calls for a truce.

Then gets hit with another snowball. "No, really, Z. I mean it."

"Sorry," she says, though she neither looks nor sounds sincere.

"It's time for hot chocolate," Ryan declares, a bit imperiously even though he's covered in snow and his clothes are a bit soaked. Probably it's time to change, dry off, _then_ get hot chocolate, but that seems too technical for one statement.

"Can there be marshmallows?" Tennessee asks, in between poking at her dress with a dismayed face. She's wearing stockings, too, and she had a coat on for a while, but Ryan thinks it's probably best to get everyone inside before they all catch pneumonia or something. Also, his teeth are chattering.

"Who won?" Laena asks, as they start back towards the palace. They're all huddled in a little closer this time; Ryan figures he's not the only one getting cold.

"Objectively, I hit the most people," Z announces.

"But you have no style," Tennessee says.

"What?" Z gapes. "What's that supposed to mean?

"You just chase people around," Tennessee says. "Sometimes you don't even bother making proper snowballs, Z, you just -- throw snow at people."

"And it was effective!" Z protests. "My style is total elimination."

"I think our form was pretty good," Sam says, an arm slung around Darren's shoulders. "And look. Hardly any of you got us."

He's right; Sam and Darren are mostly dry, even. Ryan squints at them suspiciously.

"Anyway," Ryan says, "we had a fort."

"Oh, you didn't even make that," Z says.

"I was on the team!" Ryan says. "I exchanged goods and services. I was a valid member of that team."

"Your hair is dripping," Tennessee points out. "I don't think you were that successful, even with your fort."

"That was prior to the fort," Ryan says. "I was betrayed."

" _I_ was betrayed," Alex says, laughing, and Ryan shakes his head.

"No," he says. "No, I made an honest mistake and you turned on me with a bloodthirstiness that suggests you had been waiting all along. Festering betrayal in your heart and soul. I will never trust you again."

"Ah, okay," Alex says. "I understand it now. I hope you can bring yourself to look at me again one day."

"Maybe I will," Ryan says, "but never without feeling that old phantom pain of a knife in my back."

"Phantom because it -- was never there?" Alex asks, sounding curious.

"No, come on." Ryan frowns. Alex looks dryer than him, though not by much. Ryan tucks his hand in Alex's pocket anyway. "Phantom as in -- _remembering_ the pain. That was totally there."

"Oh, right," Alex says, squeezing his hand. "Yes, I remember stabbing you now. With my knife of betrayal."

"Different from your knife of deceit," Z puts in, "and your knife of insincerity."

"And your knife of chopping up weird vegetarian ingredients," Darren puts in, "and your knife of slicing envelopes open because you want to look cool."

"That's right," Alex says. "I keep it in a different holster to all of them."

"Waiting for the moment," Ryan says, "to catch me off guard."

He looks at Alex tragically. Alex grins. "You want to share a shower when we get back?"

Ryan says, "I don't know if I can trust you not to drown me."

"In the shower?" Z asks. "I mean, I don't want to think about that _anyway_ , but how would you even get drowned in the shower?"

"I don't know," Ryan says. "But Alex has ways, I'm sure. Ways of betraying me, mostly."

"I've got ways of being ridiculously clean," Alex says. "Seriously, two showers in one day, Ryan. Think about it."

"I don't think you've ever been that clean," Sam says. "Ever."

"He's making up for lost time," Darren says. "All those weeks of missed showers onboard ship."

" _Weeks_?" Spencer asks, incredulous, looking over at Alex and Ryan both. "Really?"

"Not weeks," Alex says. "Like. One. _Maybe_."

"Eight days," Z says. "So not weeks, I guess, that was an exaggeration. Not at once, at least. That happened a few times, though."

"There was one time, what was it, nine days? He got to nine once."

"Look, I showered right after midnight, that doesn't count as another day."

"The calendar changed, Alex," Jeff says. "Still counts."

"You're just saying that because you don't want to have to pay everybody back."

Jeff grins.

Ryan says, "How do you even live that long without a shower?"

"You get very creative," Alex says.

"And smelly," Z adds. "Mostly you just get gross, I'm pretty sure, because that's all Alex seemed to do."

"Anyway," Ryan says. "Anyway, maybe it's - in everyone's best interests. I'll help you reform."

"Thank you," Alex says.

"Teach you the ways of civilization. The etiquette of not betraying the people you l-- like. You know. Want to sleep with."

"I'm sure I'll learn a lot. Since I was deprived of all the privileges that you got as your royal birthright and all."

"Yes. And then there'll be hot chocolate," Ryan says, as they finally get back inside. He shucks off his cape, and probably he should hang it up properly, but some servant will come along and get it eventually, he supposes. The rest of his clothes are wet too, but he isn't taking those off in front of everyone. That might get weird.

\---

"Alex -"

"Shh," Alex says, grinning toothily. "C'mon. Hot chocolate."

"But Alex," Ryan complains. Probably he's whining, but it's all very justified, he thinks.

"Ah," Alex says, pulling Ryan's hand away. "What was that about civility?"

"I'm the one teaching you. Come on."

"Uh-uh," Alex says, shaking his head under the spray. He bends to kiss Ryan anyway, and Ryan is pleased for a moment, because he's stopped shivering and now Alex has stopped being a jerk, and these are all things that Ryan can approve of. He winds his arms around Alex's neck, pressing up closer, and then Alex steps back, ducking out of Ryan's hold.

" _Alex_ ," Ryan says.

"Hey, c'mon," Alex says. "Patience is a virtue."

Ryan folds his arms and scowls. "So what, we're just. Getting clean."

"You can," Alex decides. "I'm all warmed up now. I don't want to get too clean."

"Why?" Ryan shouts after him, as Alex gets out and grabs a towel. "Will it wash off all your asshole germs?"

Ryan spends a couple more minutes under the hot water, scowling at the wall. When he gets out and gets changed, Alex is nowhere to be found, and Ryan has to make his way off to one of the little parlour rooms to find him and everybody else. Alex pats the spot next to him on the couch, but Ryan ignores him haughtily in favour of going and sitting next to Spencer on the carpet in front of the fire, which sets Alex off laughing again.

"Ryan," Jeff says, "I -- is this what you think of when you say 'hot chocolate'?" He nods at the silver trolley in front of them.

"Yes?" Ryan says, a little confused. "What -- isn't it what you think of?"

"There's like, seven different kinds here," Jeff says, staring.

"I think nine, actually," Ryan says. "Spencer?"

"Counting the different variations of the ones with chilli, and also the one that's just, like, melted chocolate and cream..." Spencer pauses, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. "Yeah, nine."

"And matching biscuits for each one," Annie says, "and -- what are these?"

She picks up a little silver dish of mints.

"Palate cleansers," Ryan says, blinking a little bit. "The big jug on the side is sparkling water for that, too. Why, what do you guys think of when you say hot chocolate?"

Everyone stares at him. Ryan makes a face. He kind of wishes he sat next to Alex after all, even though he's a jerk. Maybe he can sidle unnoticeably along the floor until he's close enough that Alex can pet his hair.

"Spencer," Ryan says, feeling sort of put-upon but trying to sound resolute. "This is what you think of when you think hot chocolate, right?"

"Yeah, though—"

"See," Ryan says. "That's enough. See. Spencer's on my side."

"I grew up with you," Spencer finishes.

Ryan pauses, considering this. "Shut up."

Alex starts laughing, _again_ , the jerk, and Ryan is beginning to regret his stealthy attempts at inching closer. "Is that your answer to everything? Telling people to shut up?"

"No, shut -- hey. Hey. No fair." Ryan ducks his head, because pretty much everyone's laughing. It doesn't seem too mean spirited, though, and probably he deserves it for being a bit ridiculous. Still. "Just - we don't always have this many kinds, I guess, if it's just me and Spence and Dad -- or. If it was. I guess."

Ryan falls quiet. So, for that matter, does everyone else.

"It'd been years since it was just us, though," Ryan says eventually. "So, whatever. Anyway. I mean, it's good, right? I don't know what you guys were thinking, like. What else did you mean?"

"Just, kind of, less than this?" Z says.

"I almost got sparkling water instead of hot chocolate," Laena says, contemplatively. "I'd never even thought that was a mistake you could make."

"My hot chocolate doesn't normally come on a trolley, I've got to say," Sam says.

"Well, that's just because there's so many people," Ryan says. "It would have been an awful lot of trays, and that just wouldn't be nice to the staff."

Alex says, "It's really good, though. There's that."

"It is," Tennessee agrees. "I'm very impressed."

"That's our goal," Ryan says. "Obviously. Rather than just - serving hot chocolate. Definitely trying to impress."

Spencer says, "It's just hot chocolate."

"It probably didn't even come from a packet," Darren says, wonderingly, as he takes a sip of his. He has his hands curled around the mug to warm up his fingers.

Ryan decides that, even though Alex is clearly a huge jerk, he's at least still worthy of Ryan's attentions. So Ryan gives up on subtlety and scoots over near the couch where Alex is sitting, leaning back against Alex's leg, shuffling around a little so he's more comfortable.

"Hello," Alex says, peering down at him while everyone else discusses hot chocolate amongst themselves.

Ryan is sort of horrified at the mere concept of hot chocolate from a packet, but. They seem intent on talking about it. "They're creeping me out," Ryan says, tilting his head back so he can look up at Alex.

"What? How?"

"With - packets. Of powder. For hot chocolate. That's not hot chocolate. It's dust."

Alex repeats him, carefully, voice lifting at the end in a question. "It's ... dust?"

"Yes."

"Well, I mean." Alex scratches lightly behind Ryan's ear, fingers warm and callused against Ryan's skin. He leans into the touch a little. "It's not like it's dust when you drink it."

"But what if you were making it," Ryan says, "and you accidentally inhaled?"

"I've done that," Z says, nearby. "It was pretty good stuff, it smelled really good? And so I breathed in before I added the hot water and -- man, I choked all over it, it was horrible. It stuck in my nose for days, too. Then it didn't smell so good."

"Wait," Ryan says, sidetracked. "You put water in hot chocolate?"

Z grins at him. "You don't?"

"No," Ryan says. "C'mon, it's meant to be, like. Heated milk. Or soy, I guess, if you want something a bit thinner. Not -- _water_ , seriously? Gross." He screws up his nose.

"You add milk, too," Alex says, combing his fingers through Ryan's hair in a soothing sort of way. "Like making tea or coffee or something."

"But hot chocolate isn't tea or coffee," Ryan says plaintively. "It's, you know. Chocolate. That is hot. And liquid."

"Life is unfair, I guess," Alex says. He curls a lock of Ryan's hair around his finger and tugs at it lightly, and Ryan rests his cheek against Alex's knee with a sigh.

Tennessee laughs. "Are you okay there, your majesty?"

"Hmm?" Ryan says.

"He's kind of like a cat, really," Annie says.

"We had a ship cat for a while," Sam says. "Remember? Pity Ryan can't come and replace her."

"She spent the whole time sneaking into Alex's lap, too," Z says. "Really, the resemblance is astonishing."

"Beheaded," Ryan reminds them all, even though he's feeling too sleepy and content right then to move even to refute their claims, let alone go and find an ancient guillotine in a museum.

He supposes he wouldn't actually have to carry out the executions himself. The intercom to fetch people who could do it for him is all the way on the other side of the room, though.

"If we could stop comparing Ryan to a cat, that would be great," Alex says. "Just for, you know. My peace of mind."

"It's not like he _is_ one," Z says, rolling her eyes. "I'm just suggesting -- hey, Ryan. What's your spirit animal?"

"You are," Ryan says.

Z laughs. "Well, okay. I was going to suggest changing it to a cat, but if you want to emulate me, I guess I can't really blame you."

"Don't do that, either," Alex tells Ryan, in a low voice.

"She seems like a good role model." Ryan feels a bit defiant, and kind of - wants to be a jerk for the sake of it. "You can't stop me."

"Yeah, well," Alex says. "I've also known her since she was yea high." He balances his mug between his legs so he can hold out his other hand in a general idea of how very small Z was back when they met.

"Hey, I was never that short."

"You were," Alex says. "Sorry."

Ryan says, "So?"

Alex laughs, ruffling Ryan's hair a little and picking his hot chocolate back up to drink.

"I think I'll just be me, for now," Ryan says. "At least for a while longer."

"Probably for the best," Spencer says. "I don't know what the court would make of it if you suddenly decided to act like a cat."

"Doesn't matter," Ryan says. "They'll have decided by the time we go back anyway. No big deal."

"You should see if you can sneak some catnip into the courtroom," Jeff suggests.

"Smuggle it in," Sam agrees. "You could try to pass it off as oregano."

"Does catnip look like oregano?" Darren asks, oddly interested.

"Dunno."

"Hm."

"I thought we were getting away from the cat thing," Alex says. "Don't make me feel creepy, guys."

"Oh, we wouldn't want that," Tennessee says. "Never."

"It'd be tragic," Z says. "If you thought you were creepy."

Ryan says, "It's a good creepy. Mostly. Except sometimes, you know, waking up in the middle of the night - dead eyes."

"What?" Sam asks, laughing.

"One of the - the tabloids," Ryan says. "Keeps talking about how he's got dead eyes. It's amazing."

"You read articles about yourself?" Annie asks dubiously.

Ryan shrugs. "Mostly about Alex."

Alex says, "I'm new and exciting, see. He's been reading about himself for years."

"I needed a change," Ryan agrees.

"Hey," Z says. "I wonder if there's any -- Jeff, hand me your comm?"

"What," Ryan says, "are you going to look up yourself, now?"

"No," Z says, tapping the buttons. "I just want to see if -- aha. The snowfight is already up there."

Ryan rolls his eyes.

"Seriously?" Tennessee looks impressed. "What does it say?"

Z clears her throat. "'Prince Ryan's Winter Wonderland'," she says, and looks up. "That's the headline."

"Thanks for that," Ryan says dryly.

"'A welcome relief from the ongoing drama of the trial today'," Z reads, "'as the Prince Regent took to the snowy grounds of the palace with his new friends for a bout of old-fashioned tomfoolery.'"

"Tomfoolery?" Sam says. "Really?"

"That's what it says," Z says. "'Prince Ryan and his friends were caught on camera cavorting in the snow, having a snow fight, and -- of course -- canoodling.' Then there's a picture of you two. Alex, you're halfway through a blink."

"Great," Alex says.

"Canoodling," Sam repeats, in a tone of vague wonder.

"I liked the 'of course', myself," Spencer says. "It's the snow. It's like an aphrodisiac."

"Oh, they've got a quote here," Z says. "' _It's so great to have Ryan happy again_ , one close friend gushed. _With everything that's been going on lately, he's really needed some time to just be himself and have fun_.'" She blinks. "Did anyone talk to them?"

"I don't think any of us talk like that," Annie says dubiously.

"They make it up," Ryan says, waving a hand. "Generally my close friends are someone I said hello to at a press dinner once or something."

"Oh, okay." Z makes a face. "Well, that's weird. Anyway. 'One wonders how long this carefree moment can last, as the Prince and his friends trudge back inside, the Prince looking decidedly unhappy. It takes the comfort of lover Alex Greenwald to cheer him up.'"

"That's when I thought he was going to put out," Ryan says.

"Maybe we should call and correct them," Jeff says.

"Because that would send a great message," Spencer says wryly.

"An anonymous tip, then."

"Lover?" Alex repeats, screwing up his nose.

"Hey, it could be worse," Z says. "Related articles are called 'Soulmates' Snowy Snuggles' and -- oh hey, there's another love triangle one!"

"What?" Ryan blinks.

"You're very concerned about my and Alex's doomed love, apparently," Z says.

"No, wait," Tennessee says. "Another? As in -- you've been reading the others."

Z looks shifty.

"Oh, Lord," Tennessee says, starting to laugh.

"I'm responsible for making sure none of us get put in prison!" Z protests. "I have alerts on my name!"

"Do you get alerted every time the letter Z is used?" Ryan asks, suddenly curious. "That doesn't seem at all convenient."

"No," Z says. "There are filters, okay. It's all very scientific."

"How about Elizabeth?"

"Shush," Z says. "Don't make me read more of these."

"Do they ever write about me?" Jeff asks.

"No."

"Oh."

"Well, look, at least you're not longing for the past, just wishing the dashing Captain Greenwald had ever noticed your beauty and charm."

Jeff says "Your - what?"

"Hey, I noticed," Alex says. "I totally noticed, which is, you know, why you're allowed to work on my ship."

"Only the prettiest, right?" Sam says.

"Yes."

"I knew the hiring process smelled fishy," Darren says, shaking his head. "I should have known."

"Pretty much I assembled the most photogenic crew I could. You know, so just in case me and my ship ever got embroiled in a drawn out court battle or whatever, the crew'd look good."

"Ah, yeah," Annie says. "That's very important."

"In times of crisis, yeah," Alex says.

Ryan says, "You were smart, though."

"Hm?" Alex sounds amused, grinning down at Ryan. "Was I?"

"Like - you know. Picking out a crew but making sure none of them were as pretty as you."

"Oh my god," Z says.

Alex cracks up, which Ryan is grateful for. At least _someone_ got that he was joking. Probably Spencer did, too, but Spencer's just smiling, not laughing. Ryan supposes it wasn't _that_ clever, but Alex is pretty good about laughing at his jokes.

"Yeah, I - had to make sure I'd stand out from the crowd," Alex says. "Definitely."

"We are a crowd," Tennessee says.

"Sometimes it's so hard for one of you to stand out that you have to go and get beaten up," Spencer notes.

"Uh." Alex laughs a little, shaking his head.

"Just in time for court." Spencer smiles beatifically.

"It worked out in the end?" Alex offers.

"Apparently Alex was going to stage a rescue," Ryan says lazily. "A daring prison break. Should worst come to worst."

"I don't know why you're still making fun of me for that," Alex says, frowning down at Ryan. "I totally would have."

"What -- really?" Spencer looks startled. "This was his argument for why it was okay to act like that in court?"

"Among others," Ryan says.

"I still don't see why it's not valid," Alex says grumpily.

"It's kind of a maximum security prison," Spencer says, amused. "That's cute, though."

"Hey," Alex says, "look, we are -- cunning and clever, all right, don't underestimate our skills."

"Okay," Spencer says. "But it would probably have been easier just to, you know. Not get beaten up."

"He was defending our monarch's honor," Annie says sleepily, half drowsing on a chair close to the fire. "Patriotism is very close to his heart."

"You sure that's the right organ?" Jeff pipes up.

"Oh, shut up," Alex says. "You're gross."

"Wrong in the context, too," Ryan points out. "You've got to look at the situation. It's my first day off in about a million years. I'm totally awake. And what are we doing? Sitting around in front of a fire drinking hot chocolate. Being wholesome."

"Life's hard for a little prince," Alex says, ruffling Ryan's hair. "All alone in the world."

"You suck," Ryan tells him, and Alex laughs. He shifts aside on the couch again, and Ryan hesitates but then gets up next to him, giving Alex an annoyed look to prove he's still mad. Alex makes room, though, and Ryan's not going to resist curling up against Alex's side, resting his chin on Alex's shoulder so he can breathe him in.

"Your hands are cold," Alex says quietly, holding them close.

"We can turn the fire up," Spencer says. "If -- Ryan, you really shouldn't get sick just now."

"I'm okay," Ryan says. He's pretty sure now would be a terrible time for the annual attack of the evil death flu. He reaches for the blanket draped over the top of the couch just in case, shaking it out around them and then taking Alex's hands again.

It's silly, because he slept for more last night than he has in a long time, but with the fire and the warmth and Alex steady next to him, Ryan feels a little drowsy again. Not in a way where he wants to sleep, really, just that he's okay with sitting here and listening to the ebb and flow of conversation for a while.

"Totally awake, huh?" Alex says, close to his ear.

"Yeah," Ryan says, nodding a little. He turns, tilting his chin up so he can kiss Alex, very quick and mindful of how the others are all around. He doesn't want to be too obnoxious or anything, but he's just fond of Alex. Alex smiles warmly at him, and Ryan ducks his head.

"Seriously, though," Spencer says, a while later. "Ryan. If you even think you might be getting sick, let me know."

"Do you have magic powers?" Z asks.

"Do I what?"

"That you can, you know, do something if you're alerted that Ryan's sick. Can you cure the common cold?"

"Nah," Spencer says. "I can just shove medicine at him and make sure he's getting enough water."

"Ah, next best thing," Z says.

"I'm pretty good at it," Spencer says. "Got a lot of practice. You know."

"Oh, hey," Sam says. "That's right. You get sick a lot, don't you, Ryan?"

"He does," Jeff says. He glances toward Spencer, and adds, "We did a lot of research."

"Good?" Spencer tries, a little hesitantly.

Alex turns to Ryan again. "Hey, you."

"Hmm?"

"You wanna go back to your room once I finish my hot chocolate?"

"Yes," Ryan says, perking up instantly. Alex laughs at his sudden alertness.

"Spencer," Sam says. "Medical opinion. If Ryan is at risk of being sick, should he be allowed to go off with Alex?"

"I don't actually listen to Spencer's advice about such things," Ryan says primly, because his friends are assholes, most of the time.

"I guess exercise is good?" Spencer says, looking wicked.

"And endorphins," Darren adds. "Endorphins are good for you, right?"

"Alex," Ryan says.

"Yes?"

"Have you finished your hot chocolate yet?"

Alex laughs. "Not quite," he says.

"I'm just concerned about your mental welfare," Ryan says. "Having to listen to these jerks."

"Right, yeah," Alex says. "You're a humanitarian."

"I am," Ryan says, walking two of his fingers up Alex's leg. Alex looks at him, eyebrows raised, and Ryan makes a grab for Alex's dick, sliding his palm along the rough line of denim. Alex's hand jerks, slopping a bit of hot chocolate over the rim and onto the blanket, not enough to be noticeable or even get the blanket particularly wet. Ryan grins, kind of pleased with himself, and Alex looks at him, face blank. Ryan keeps his hand where it is, and waits until Alex has settled again, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and resting the cup carefully on the arm of the couch before he rubs his palm against the denim, scratching his fingers lightly against it. Alex drops his head forward, forehead bumping against Ryan's shoulder, and only Ryan hears the quiet sound he makes.

"Ryan?" Spencer says, sounding impatient.

"Sorry," Ryan says. "What?"

Darren laughs. "You awake there, Ross?"

"Just," Ryan says. He turns his hand around, so he can hook two fingers in under the line of Alex's jeans, pressing in lightly against Alex's hot skin, the beginning of coarse hair. Ryan's feeling pretty glad about Alex's decision to wear such low jeans.

"I was just saying," Spencer says, "that the one -- like, not today, okay, I mean it about not doing any work, but we've got the two speeches now, for when you want to look over them, so."

"Two speeches for what?" Annie asks.

"One if I win the trial, one if I lose," Ryan says absently. He pops the button on Alex's jeans, waiting until the conversation is loud enough before he slides his hand in, letting the zipper drag down, squeezing Alex lightly.

"Enough hot chocolate, I think," Alex says abruptly.

Ryan blinks innocently at him. "You sure you don't want another cup?"

"Pretty sure, yeah," Alex says.

"It's going to be cold away from the fire," Ryan says thoughtfully. "We should take the blanket with us. Like a poncho."

The others are looking at them suspiciously, but Ryan pulls Alex up with the blanket still hanging securely around the both of them. Ryan has to press close behind Alex for both of them to fit, but that's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

Alex starts laughing, breathless and relieved, when they get out of the room. "You're _such_ a creep."

"You're the creep," Ryan says. "You creep."

"How am I, again? I mean, remind me who it was who was just being," Alex pauses, glancing around to see if anyone's there then apparently deciding to rephrase his statement anyway. "I'd just like to make sure we have it properly established that you're the creep with the blanket."

"You are, too," Ryan says, and he's got one hand clutching at the blanket to try and keep it up but he sneaks his other around. Alex stumbles a little, startled.

"Man," Alex says, a little vague, then shakes his head to clear it. "See, now. This is what patience is for."

Ryan blinks at him.

Alex huffs out an exasperated laugh but doesn't say much until they actually get to Ryan's room again. He kicks the door shut behind them and shrugs off the blanket.

Ryan beams at him, feigning innocence. Alex's smile is a fair sight more predatory, and he practically stalks Ryan all the way back to the bed. Ryan backs up until his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he sits down and pulls Alex down with him.

"Hi," Ryan says, looking smug before Alex pushes him down and kisses him, hard. Ryan shifts a little, trying to get more comfortable but not breaking the contact between their mouths. Alex drags his teeth rough against Ryan's lower lip, and he whines a little, pushing his hips up.

He would be embarrassed about how easy and willing he is right now, but it's been all day. Ryan reaches down to undo his own pants before thinking that, just maybe, it'd be even more fun to jerk Alex off than himself.

"Hey," Alex says, breathing already a bit fast. "You did good."

"At what?" Ryan wonders. "I haven't even blown you yet."

Alex huffs out a laugh, by Ryan's already figuring out the best way to reposition himself and Alex both to make that happen.

The best thing about Alex, Ryan thinks, or at least one of the great things, is that he talks a lot in bed, which Ryan is unused to but unexpectedly charmed by. It's not like any of the people he's been with before have been creepily silent or anything, but Alex laughs and chatters and doesn't get embarrassed by funny noises, which is good, because the way he moans, somehow still surprised when Ryan goes down on him, is definitely funny. It's just pretty hot, too.

Alex clutches at the sheets with one hand and pats clumsily at Ryan's hair with the other and Ryan thinks it's weird, how much he likes this. It's weird, but Alex says, "Fuck, you look so -- Ryan, Ryan," and then he laughs loud and breaking off into a gasp when Ryan moves his hand back a little, pressing behind Alex's balls, and then he says, "yeah, yeah, more," and Ryan gives him what he wants. Ryan thinks he would give Alex what he wanted for as long as it was still in his power, no matter what that thing was, and it scares him a little, knowing that. In one weird way it scares him because it reminds him of how Shane is.

" _Ryan_ ," Alex says, and tugs at Ryan's hair, trying to pull him back. Ryan follows a little so he won't choke, but he swallows neatly, mostly because it makes Alex's eyes go all glazed, and it makes him kiss Ryan hungry and filthy.

"Hey," Ryan says, voice torn, a little out of breath, and Alex flips them over and pushes Ryan into the bed. Ryan rubs up against him helpfully, but Alex just presses down harder and kisses Ryan until Ryan's breathless and stupid with it.

"You're so," Alex says, but he slides down the bed and takes Ryan in his mouth before Ryan can find out what.

\---

"So we could go back to the others, I guess," Ryan says, some time later.

"Don't say stupid shit like that," Alex says. He edges a little more on top of Ryan, possibly in case Ryan decides to make a break for it.

Ryan grins. "I thought we were going to, you know, spend the day with many pursuits."

"No," Alex says, "we were going to spend the morning being patient, and now we're going to fuck for the rest of the day. Okay?"

"Oh, Captain Greenwald," Ryan says, fluttering his eyelashes. "Seduce me some more with your flowery words."

"Shut up," Alex says, and turns his head to kiss Ryan again. Ryan closes his eyes.

"I like your plan," he whispers against Alex's lips. "But I think maybe I need a nap first."

"Sure thing, tiger," Alex says cheerfully. Ryan can tell he's drowsy too, though, from the way he's curling around Ryan. It's odd, Ryan thinks, that he recognises these things now. He kind of likes it.

Falling asleep next to Alex is easy, just as familiar as waking up with him. Ryan falls into patterns like this too easily, but he thinks in this case probably it's all right. Alex seems pretty used to him too.

Mostly Ryan delights in the fact that Alex seems to like him back in equal measure.

He wakes up from some lazy dream, and he yawns and stretches just a little. Not too much, so as not to jostle Alex. Ryan'll have to remember to give Spencer a gift basket or something for wrangling this day off. Things have been pretty full on lately.

Ryan considers, for a moment, what the best way to wake up Alex will be. There are an awful lot of options but Ryan figures he'll keep it simple. He shifts so he can lean over Alex a little, sort of dislodging him but Alex is somewhere deep in sleep anyway.

Ryan bends over Alex, kissing his forehead and eyelids and the tip of his nose. He lingers at Alex's mouth, and then the curve of his jaw; the spot just beneath his ear and then the side of his neck.

Alex makes a sleepy noise, just beginning to stir.

Ryan might as well keep going, he reckons.

"Hm," Alex sort-of says.

"Good morning," Ryan says, looking up from somewhere around Alex's collar bone.

"It's afternoon by now, isn't it?"

"Maybe? You're awfully coherent."

"Eh," Alex says with a yawn. "Feel free to, you know. Carry on with what you were doing there."

"Almost lunchtime," Ryan says.

"Oh, god."

"What? It's - sustenance. Fuel for continued existence. And weren't you just going on about patience or whatever?"

"No, it's not like I'm not hungry. It's. We'll have to shower. Again."

"Three showers," Ryan says, somewhat wonderingly. "Are we at a record yet?"

"Yes." Alex pauses. "And before dinner, we'll. Oh my god."

"Well. Since we'll already have to shower, we might as well make sure it's worthwhile."

Alex smiles up at Ryan, slow and pleased, and he slides his hand into Ryan's hair and pulls him in to kiss him properly, slow and thorough. "Hi," he says, pulling away, and Ryan moves until he's on top of Alex properly, fitting against him just right.

\---

"So," Alex says. "Lunchtime?"

Ryan's stomach grumbles. Alex laughs. "Probably," Ryan says, and reaches for a comm device on the table. "I'll just see where it is." He calls Spencer, careful to keep the video tilted up so it's just his face filling the screen. It's not like Spencer hasn't seen Ryan bare-chested before, but Alex is a jerk who leaves bite marks, and Ryan figures that's probably not something that Spencer really needs to see.

Spencer starts laughing when he first appears onscreen. "What?" Ryan asks, blinking, and Spencer shakes his head, smiling fondly.

"Your hair is _fucked_ ," he says, adding hastily, "I don't want to know."

Ryan swipes his hand through his hair a couple of times. "Whatever," he says. "We were just wondering what's going on for lunch, where everyone is."

"Oh," Spencer says, looking surprised. "Did you want to eat with everyone? I just ate, I don't know where the others are. I think a bunch of them have gone into the city, planning on spending some time wandering around."

"Really?" Ryan scratches his chin. "I think -- maybe I'll just have something sent up here, then."

"Yeah, just let the steward know what you want," Spencer says. "Ask for some of the apple tart, if you're really hungry, it's great."

"Cool," Ryan says. "Thanks. See you later."

"Bye," Spencer says, and Ryan taps out a message to the steward for lunch, sending it off and then sprawling back against Alex with a pleased sigh.

"So," he says. "How do you feel about lunch in bed?"

"Not great," Alex says. "I'm not a big fan of crumbs."

"Yeah," Ryan says, "because the _crumbs_ are the reason we're going to need fresh bedding."

Alex laughs. "I'm a fan of lunch in the bedroom, if that helps?"

"It does," Ryan says, solemnly. "Thank you. Very much."

Alex nods his head regally. Ryan picks up his hand and presses it into a fist, then curls the fingers out one by one. He turns it from side to side, running his fingers along the joints and bones.

"You all right there?" Alex asks, sounding amused.

"I like your hands," Ryan tells him.

"Thanks," Alex says. Ryan doesn't say anything, not looking at Alex's face, and then Alex says, "C'mere," and tugs Ryan forward, into his lap. Ryan winds himself around Alex, hooks his chin over Alex's shoulder.

"Did you want anything," he murmurs, "for lunch? Anything special, I mean. Besides food."

"What did you order?" Alex asks. He's busy twisting his head, mouthing a line down Ryan's neck, along his shoulder. Ryan reminds himself that someone will be knocking on the door with food very soon, and it's probably best not to get too carried away again.

"Nothing particular," Ryan says. "Just. A vegetarian meal, and apple tart. Spencer said it was good."

"Sounds cool," Alex says, lips buzzing a little against Ryan's skin. "I like surprises."

"Only the good kind, though," Ryan says.

"Well, yeah." Alex looks up, and Ryan tries not to sigh. "If they turn up with tripe, I'm not going to be so happy."

"Noted," Ryan says. "Hey, look. One less shower."

"Back to three for the day," Alex says. "Presuming we go down for dinner."

Ryan snickers.

"You're a freak," Alex tells him. "I hope you know that."

"Did you know," Ryan says, "Brendon Urie has a song all about blowjobs. He played it to me."

"Ew," Alex says. "Come on, Ryan, don't tell me that shit."

"Hey, I have to live with the memory every day. Every moment. Think of how easy your life is in comparison."

"Why did he play it to you?"

"I think it was part of the whole big seduction attempt."

"You resisted pretty well against that," Alex tells him.

"Hey," Ryan says. "I'm trained to be able to remain calm under torture."

Alex stares at him, disbelieving.

"Well, okay, maybe not," Ryan admits. "But they're crazy. Also, I was halfway through a big seduction attempt of my own."

Alex laughs, startled and delighted. "How'd that work out for you?"

"Sam remains sadly impervious to my charms," Ryan tells him mournfully.

"He's a tough nut to crack, Farrar is," Alex says, shaking his head. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Ryan says. "I guess you're kind of second-best. Like a consolation prize."

"I do my best." Alex says, "You know I'm here for you. Supporting you despite your tragic circumstances in not - having earned Sam's love."

"I can probably deal," Ryan tells him, nuzzling against Alex's neck again and pausing to breathe in deep. "Like - I get that some things are just impossible, so. I make do."

"Good," Alex says.

"I -" Ryan starts, then laughs. "I was about to be sincere for a minute there. Look what you're doing to me."

"It's tragic, I'm sorry," Alex says, and then thankfully that somewhat awkward line of conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door.

Ryan grabs a pair of boxers - he's not sure whose, exactly - and goes to get the door. "Have a - sheet or something. Alex."

He helps the servant pull the little trolley into the room, says, "Sorry about the. Yeah."

The servant shrugs. "Enjoy your lunch, Your Majesty. Captain."

"Thanks," Alex says, saluting. "You too, uh -- sir?"

That earns a laugh. "Nick."

"Well, thanks, Nick. You sure you don't get a fancy title?"

"Nope."

"Sucks," Alex says. "You can just call me Alex, if you want. Like. To even the playing field?"

Ryan says, "Alex, come on, it's food time. You can hash out modes of address later. I feel all weird here."

"Without your shirt, yeah," Alex says. "Awkward."

Ryan rolls his eyes. "You're _naked_."

"May I leave?" Nick asks.

"Uh. Yeah, yeah, no, that's fine," Ryan says, covering his face with his hand for a moment. "Go ahead. Sorry."

Nick just shrugs. "I've seen worse."

Ryan frowns at him for a moment, then says, "You were one of my father's servants, weren't you?"

Nick straightens, not that he was especially slouching. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I didn't mean to imply—"

"No, it's cool," Ryan says, laughing a little derisively. "It's cool. Later, man."

"Sorry, again. Bye, Your Majesty. Alex."

"Bye, Nick," Alex says as he finally leaves. Ryan stands still a while, and Alex watches him carefully.

"Lunchtime," Ryan says, picking one of the plates off of the little trolley.

Alex kicks the sheet back down and goes over to pick up a plate of his own, then sits down, rather abruptly, in the middle of the floor. The carpet's soft, at least, but -

"That's gonna look pretty silly later, you know," Ryan says.

"What?"

"Sitting naked on the carpet," Ryan says. "You'll get. You know. Those little marks."

Alex raises his eyebrows.

"Better than rug burn, I guess." Ryan pauses. "You know what I mean though, right?"

"I could put on clothes," Alex says, thoughtfully. "To eat in. But I don't want to make there be more laundry for your staff."

"Yeah." Ryan cocks his head to the side, then grins. "Life's pretty tough, huh?"

"Oh, absolutely," Alex says. "What with having all my meals made for me. And my laundry done by somebody else, like, mysteriously. It just kind of reappears. Having new stuff tailored, too, that's really difficult to deal with."

Ryan gets up on his knees to lean across where they've set their food down - he feels kind of like a rebel, eating on the floor - to kiss Alex. It's kind of awkward, even with a hand on Alex's shoulder to steady himself, and Alex has to help with the whole balance thing too, hands somewhere around Ryan's hips. "At least you're getting laid. That's gotta ease all the heartache."

"It does," Alex says, laughing, and Ryan manages to sit back down _without_ knocking anything over or onto the floor.

It's a proud moment.

\---

Ryan's comm buzzes on the bedside table, and Ryan groans.

"Mmf," Alex says, pulling him back down. "Don't get it."

"I have to," Ryan says, "it could be urgent--"

" _Ryan_ ," Alex whines, and Ryan kisses him again, rocking his hips down against Alex's until they're both panting and Alex is making noises into Ryan's mouth. Then Ryan reaches out and grabs his comm. It's just a message, thankfully, but when he opens it up and sees _come down to meet me in room 202 asap_ from Spencer he has to resist the urge to fling it across the room.

"I have to go," Ryan says.

"What? No," Alex says. He pulls Ryan in closer to him, fingers pressing hard against Ryan's back, and Ryan lets Alex kiss him for a while before he sits up.

"No, seriously," he says.

"It can wait," Alex says.

"It probably can't," Ryan says. "But look, it's just Spencer, I'll be back as fast as I can, okay?" He gets off the bed, and Alex groans, flopping back against the mattress. Ryan hops around on one foot pulling someone's underwear on -- he thinks it's Alex's, actually, because he's almost sure he doesn't own any in kelly green -- and then finds a pair of sweatpants in his top drawer.

Alex laughs, still sounding a little frustrated.

"What?"

"Sweatpants," Alex says.

"I can't be a fashion icon all the time," Ryan says, and picks up Alex's discarded t-shirt to pull that on, too. Alex's eyes darken, and Ryan's breath stutters in his chest, because it figures now would be the time Alex chooses not to get all bitchy and hilarious about Ryan stealing his shirts. Instead Alex gets up on his knees to curl his hand in the material of the shirt and tug Ryan in, kiss him hot and hard. Ryan pulls back.

"Fuck you," he says, "I've got to," and he rearranges his sweatpants as best he can, trying to think about his old tutor who had been at least seven hundred and liked to regale him with stories about trotting down to the beach in her bikini. He'd been fourteen, and it had all been fairly horrific.

"Put socks on," Alex says.

"What?" Ryan stares at him.

"There's stone floors," Alex says, like it's obvious. "And you get sick all the time."

"If you start turning into Spencer on me," Ryan warns, sitting down to pull on a pair of socks.

"You'll what?" Alex still sounds grumpy.

"Take longer," Ryan says. "Who's the patient one now, jerk?"

Alex gets up and catches him by the door, puts his arms around Ryan and presses right up against him when he kisses him again. It's an awful lot of hot bare skin and Ryan pulls him in closer, greedy, until Alex steps away.

"Hurry up," he says, and Ryan nods jerkily and closes the door behind him, thinks, _I hate my life_.

\---

"This had better be really fucking important," Ryan says, pushing open the door. "I swear to god, Spencer--"

"Oh, god," Spencer says. He stands up stiffly. "Your Majesty."

"Hi, Prince!" Brendon waves at him.

"I hate my life," Ryan says numbly.

"Your Majesty," Shane says, grinning like a shark, "what on earth have you been up to?"

"What are you _wearing_?" Brendon says. "Is that a Batman t-shirt?"

"Your Majesty," Spencer says faintly, "didn't you think it was maybe a good idea to, um. Tidy yourself up a little bit before coming down through the palace?"

"You didn't say we had guests," Ryan says.

"Honored guests," Shane says.

"Yeah," Ryan snaps. "Just like Alex. Maybe I'll lock you in a little room, huh?"

"Prince Ryan," Brendon says, all earnest and wide eyes, "you're not being very nice. Why are you being so grouchy? You smell like you've had a good afternoon."

"You are _such a creep_ ," Ryan says.

"I'm just attentive," Brendon says. "I notice these things."

"It's great," Shane says.

Ryan says, "Sure, yeah. Spence, why are these two here, again? Seriously."

"They wanted to offer their congratulations, apparently."

Ryan narrows his eyes. "On what, exactly?"

"Oh, you know," Brendon says, vaguely.

"Your tremendous luck," Shane adds as clarification. "We're very happy for you, Your Majesty."

Ryan frowns. "What?"

"Just in general," Shane says cheerfully. "You know. But if you wanted to thank us or anything, we'd be fine with that."

"I mean, if you wanted to make us national heroes, that'd be _totally_ fine, but we'd be happy with just some financial compensation or whatever, instead."

"Like - as thanks for being so supportive," Shane says.

"Spencer," Ryan says, looking at him instead of Brendon and Shane.

Brendon beams. "We get Spencer? Oh, man—"

"No," Ryan and Spencer say as one. Ryan kind of wants to laugh, but holds off given the situation.

Spencer says, "I swear, Ryan—"

"Don't let them in here again without personally notifying me first." Ryan intends to tell Spencer to just never let them in ever, later on, and to pass on orders for the same to the rest of the palace staff, but he figures right now, with them here, he'll refrain. He isn't quite sure why.

"Aw, Shane," Brendon says. "The Prince wants to know when we come to visit!"

"And we'd talk to you about that sort of thing, Spencer?" Shane asks, leaning forward and looking interested.

"You could start," Spencer says, "by not breaking into my office in the first place."

"They what?" Ryan blinks.

"It was hardly breaking and entering," Shane says, rolling his eyes. "It's only on the second floor."

"I barely even needed a boost," Brendon says.

"What were they doing in your office?" Ryan asks, staring at Spencer.

"I have no idea." Spencer looks a little weirded out, actually. "All the important stuff's locked up, anyway, they were just. Wandering around."

"We thought breaking into your bedroom was a bit too much for the first date," Brendon says, winking at him.

"I am being very nice in not having you arrested so far," Spencer says, folding his arms and glaring.

"Oh, come on," Brendon says. "I was joking. I winked."

"How did you get in in the first place?" Ryan asks, baffled. It's not like the palace doesn't have security.

"We have our ways," Brendon says, vaguely.

"Anyway," Shane says, "it's not like you're going to arrest us."

"Want a bet?" Ryan says.

"But Your Majesty," Brendon says, "what if you arrested us, and the shock of it caused us to remember crucial bits of information?"

"Like who we hired to bring you to us in the first place," Shane adds.

Ryan stares at them, face blank. "No one would believe you."

"Yeah? Want to take the chance?"

"Come on, princey," Brendon says. "Don't ruin a perfectly nice chat."

Ryan sighs, sinking into a chair and rubbing his face with his hands. "The palace will not be providing any sort of financial compensation for your testimony. It's illegal."

"What about," Brendon says, "financial compensation for how great we are?"

"It doesn't even need to be from the palace," Shane says. "I'm sure you've got some to spare. A cheque in a birthday card will do nicely."

"It was my birthday recently," Brendon says.

"Well, six months ago," Shane says.

"It's my half-birthday, then," Brendon says.

"There you go." Shane grins at him.

"There will be no exchange of currency," Ryan says, "or, for that matter, goods and services."

Brendon and Shane watch him, eerily quiet for a moment.

Ryan draws in a breath. "If that will be all," he says, "I'm kind of busy."

"Oh, we bet you are," Brendon says, waggling his eyebrows.

"And we're totally supportive of that," Shane says.

"Except for the bit where, you know." Brendon grimaces. "Greenwald. You know."

"Ew," Shane says.

"Exactly." Brendon leans forward. "Anyway, so if you could just agree to let us keep having safe passage through your airspace, we'll be on our way."

Shane nudges him.

"Unless Spencer wants to have dinner with us," Brendon adds, and Shane nods.

"Wow, that's a pretty tempting offer," Ryan says.

"I knew we liked you for a reason," Brendon says, beaming at Ryan. "I - well, I'd give you a hug, but I'm being nice."

"Not that hugs aren't nice," Shane says. "But you're a jerk about them."

"Right, yeah," Ryan nods. "I appreciate it. Please don't touch me. Either of you."

Brendon sighs, shaking his head. "Man. I even - Shane! Shane, do we have my guitar somewhere? Spencer, I wrote a song, I bet you'd like it. Ryan didn't appreciate it, but he's a creep, and you've got way bigger shoulders."

Spencer's expression shifts from horrified to confused to mildly disgusted and lands back on somewhat baffled. "What?"

Shane says, "For once, I don't know either."

Brendon rolls his eyes. "I didn't mean that as a serious thing, come on. What do you people take me for?"

Ryan raises an eyebrow, staring at Brendon rather critically.

"So do we - can we eat here, or should we take you out somewhere?" Shane asks.

"I'm not going anywhere with either of you," Spencer says.

"So here, then," Shane says. "That's cool. I've heard good things about the kitchen staff here."

"They're pretty famous, yeah," Brendon says. "Like, I'd be honored."

"Right?" Shane says. "It's getting kind of late, too. I'm pretty hungry."

"I'm not," Spencer says. "Also, it's not that late."

"Well, like, we skipped lunch to drop by and visit." Brendon shrugs.

"Great," Spencer says flatly. "Maybe you can eat on your own."

"Maybe they can eat _not in my palace_ ," Ryan suggests. "Spencer, stop encouraging them."

"Don't blame Spencer," Brendon says.

"Is he mean to you, Spence?" Shane asks. "You can come live with us, if you'd prefer. We don't care who you invite around to eat in our kitchens."

"Well, kitchen," Brendon says. "There's just the one."

"Open to Spencer's guests, though, is my point."

"Oh," Brendon says. "Yes, right, of course."

"I can't believe you made me come down for this," Ryan tells Spencer.

"Dude, I'm not going to deal with it on my own."

"Don't call His Majesty dude," Shane advises. "He gets all tetchy."

"If he reprimands you, though, we'll defend your honor." Brendon looks at Ryan hopefully. "Reprimand him, your majesty!"

"I'm leaving now," Ryan announces. "Get them escorted off the premises."

"That sounds an awful lot like arrest," Brendon says thoughtfully.

"We're not arresting you." Ryan stares at him, folding his arms. "And we're not giving you any kind of thank you gift, either. I just want you to leave, right now. The trial's over tomorrow and you can go back to Panic! and never come here ever again."

"Wow," Brendon says, a little flatly.

Shane shakes his head. "Seriously?"

"That's kind of harsh," Brendon says. "Like, I get that you don't like us - which is pretty ridiculous - but saying we can never come back? Like, do you mean to the palace, or the entire planet?"

"Hopefully both," Ryan says.

"We haven't even seen all the sights yet," Shane says. "Like, we've seen _one city's worth_ of the entire planet, and you're forbidding us from coming back."

"It's kind of—" Brendon starts, trailing off like he's searching for the right word.

"Overkill," Shane finishes.

"Yeah," Brendon says.

"Well, for one thing, you kidnapped me," Ryan says. "And I'm pretty sure you kicked my -- whatever, kicked Alex in the ribs a couple times."

Shane raises his hand. "That was me. Brendon didn't kick him even once, your majesty. Not once."

"If that's all you're mad about, dude," Brendon says.

"Sorry," Shane says. "I only knocked him out the once, too. I think that's still forgivable, right?"

"Totally forgivable," Brendon says.

"Why are you still here, again?" Ryan asks, turning to leave. "Seriously. Spence. Make them not be here."

"Is he always this mean?" Ryan hears Brendon asking as he leaves - "I thought it was just the stress and all, back on Panic!"

\---

"Important business?" Alex asks when Ryan finally gets back.

"No."

"Okay?"

Ryan sighs, getting back into bed next to Alex. Alex has pulled the blankets up around him, which Ryan can't exactly say he approves of, but he was gone for a while and it is cold, so. He nuzzles against the join of Alex's neck and shoulder and says, "Who would you seriously not want to be able to break into your palace?"

"Um," Alex says. "I'm having trouble keeping track of that sentence."

"Brendon and Shane climbed in through Spencer's office window," Ryan says. "Somehow."

Alex stares. "Seriously?"

"Yup."

"But - but you're all right?"

Ryan looks him in the face, a little amused. "No, Alex. As you can see, I am both traumatised and mortally wounded."

"Dude, I'm just checking. I've seen PTSD before."

"I wasn't the one locked in a tiny room," Ryan says, and Alex tilts his face up with two fingers on Ryan's chin and kisses him.

"Is Spencer okay?" Alex asks, resting his forehead against Ryan's.

"A little freaked, but yeah," Ryan says. "They're being seen out now." He shakes his head. "It's weird, because I keep wanting to say that they're, like, crazy but harmless, except for."

"How they're not really harmless," Alex agrees. "Yeah."

"Anyway," Ryan says. "Fucking weird."

"And a totally shitty reason to leave me all on my own," Alex says. He pulls Ryan back down to him.

"We might have to skip dinner," Ryan confides in a whisper. "Or have it up here, whatever. To make up for lost time. We're on a tight schedule."

"Right," Alex says. "Well, I'm sure you're better with these things than me."

"Schedules?"

"Yeah." Alex wriggles back against the mattress, pulling Ryan down properly on top of him. "I'll just have to trust your judgement."

\---

When Ryan wakes up the next morning, Alex is sitting up, arms looped loosely around his knees, staring into the dark. "Whatsit?" Ryan mumbles, because Alex rarely beats him up, or at least not since they've gotten back to the palace.

"Hey," Alex says.

"Why are you awake?" Ryan makes a valiant effort to sit up, but ends up kind of draped over Alex's back, resting his cheek against Alex's shoulder.

"I was just thinking about stuff," Alex says lightly. "Big day today, and all."

"Hmm," Ryan says, sighing. Alex smells of sleep and sex and morning, and Ryan nuzzles in closer.

"Aren't you nervous?"

"The trial?" Ryan yawns widely. "I will be, when I wake up a bit." He lifts his head a little, trying to look at Alex. "Why are you nervous? Doesn't really matter, either way for you, does it?"

"What? Why?"

"Well." Ryan's eyelids are still heavy with sleep, despite the day off yesterday; how early _is_ it, he wonders. "It's not like I'm going to be sentenced to death anymore, so. Either way I'm going to -- going to try and come with you. For a while. If it's cool."

Alex snorts a little. "Believe it or not, Ryan," he says, warm and amused, "I don't actually want you to lose your job just so I can have sole demand of your time."

"No?"

"No," Alex says. "I'm not _that_ selfish."

Ryan smiles a bit. "Well," he says, "anyway, even if we lose the trial today, I'm pretty sure people will still want me for occasional things. Like, opening shopping centres and stuff. You won't be the sole demand."

"Oh, well. That's a relief."

"Yeah," Ryan says. "There's always something for a washed up celebrity ex-prince to do, don't you worry."

"Reality shows," Alex suggests helpfully. "I bet there'd be a lot of demand."

"Oh, probably." Ryan laughs a little. "And I could - join your crew. I'd find something useful to do."

"Probably not cooking."

"No," Ryan says regretfully. "I could learn?"

"Fires on a spaceship aren't really desirable. Probably it'd be better for you to learn on an actual planet."

"Hm," Ryan says. "I should learn."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe," Ryan says. "I have - various skills, but they're not the most useful."

"Yeah, like swordfighting," Alex says.

"I could get into a swordfight. That's - totally plausible. Someone could challenge me to a duel."

"Have you ever been challenged to a duel?" When Ryan shakes his head, Alex says, "Did anyone challenge your dad to a duel, or your grandfather?"

"My grandfather wasn't even king, but no," Ryan says. "Grandpa married into it. Someone challenged my great grandmother to a duel once, when she was heir apparent. It was pretty exciting."

"You weren't there," Alex says, a little dubiously.

"No." Ryan laughs. "There's videos and stuff. You never saw that in your history lessons or anything?"

"No."

"Oh." Ryan says, "Well, they're easy enough to dig up. I'll show you sometime. She was much better than I am, anyway."

"You should teach me," Alex says. "We could duel."

"Over what?"

"I don't know yet. Probably the last muffin onboard ship or something." He grins, raising his eyebrows. "You know. Something important."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Ryan yawns. "Do you think it's breakfast time yet?"

"Almost," Alex says.

"Good."

\---

Breakfast is a little rushed, because they end up taking longer in the shower than they really should have. Ryan figures they would have taken less time showering separately, but he wants to keep Alex close, today, especially now that he's more awake and starting to fully realize just what day it is.

Suarez has made a good case, but he's still nervous. All the way there, Ryan keeps running a hand through his hair and fidgeting with the buttons on his overcoat, until Alex puts a hand over his, stilling it against his knee. Ryan leans against Alex's shoulder.

Once he gets to court he manages to sit tall and dignified on his own. He looks good today, well-styled for the cameras and the press conference after the verdict is delivered.

The jury all seem rather sleepless and harried. The decision's taken long enough to reach, Ryan supposes. Probably they're more tired than he is, especially since he had a day off and they probably spent the entire time debating and discussing amongst themselves.

It takes a lot of time for things to start off. While everyone's still filing in, Ryan's uncle pauses in front of his desk.

"You're going to pay for your impudence today," he says.

"'You're going to pay for your impudence today'," Ryan echoes calmly, "'your _majesty_ '."

His uncle sneers. "Enjoy it while you can, majesty. You took this throne wrongfully, and you will be exposed as the traitor to true sovereignty that you are."

"I'll look forward to that," Ryan says.

"You're arrogant," his uncle says, low, "and you'll get what's coming to you, one way or another, I'll make _sure_ that you don't take the throne--"

"I'm sorry, my lord," Spencer says. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise," Ryan's uncle says.

Ryan stares at him, eyebrows raised. He hasn't been expecting this, but he can't say he's particularly surprised. His uncle has never seemed to be that cautious or diplomatic in his approach to -- anything, really.

"I wonder if perhaps the press would find this interesting," Spencer says. "Or the palace security detail."

"Or anyone, really," Z drawls, and Ryan looks around to see that Alex and Z and Darren and Annie are leaning up against the wooden row behind them, smiling politely at Ryan's uncle.

Ryan's uncle blinks.

"Hello, sir," Alex says.

"I am a lord," Ryan's uncle says stiffly, "not a knight."

"Oh, I see," Alex says. "I was going to be a knight." He smiles, with rather too many teeth to be entirely friendly. "Then I decided that knights generally have to do what people tell them."

"Be respectable," Z agrees. "Follow the letter of the law."

"It gets kind of boring," Annie says.

"Aren't you meant to be sitting over there?" Alex asks. Ryan bites his lip to keep from smiling. "I'm pretty sure your seat is over there, with the rest of the people about to lose the trial."

"You will all of you come to regret this," Ryan's uncle says, voice shaking with anger, but he walks away.

"Wow," Ryan says. "That was impressive. Are you impressed, Spence?"

"Very," Spencer says. "I was so scared. Thank God we had the dream team here to save the day."

"We do what we can," Z says, grinning.

"Though we might actually want to consider increasing security around the palace for a while," Ryan says, thoughtfully. "I mean, as long as we're able."

The judge finally comes in, and everyone rises - Ryan, technically, doesn't have to, but he feels a bit awkward being the only one sitting, and figures even at this late date with his fate already decided that he might as well look respectful of the court. Everyone sits back down, and it's quiet for a moment.

The judge asks the jury to stand, then says, "Madame Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?"

"Yes."

"And is the jury agreed upon the verdict?"

"We are."

"All right," the judge says. "Madame Foreman, on count number 1-A, was Lady Ross lawfully withdrawn from the line of succession?"

"Yes. She was," the lead juror says.

"On the matter of number 1-B, was the agreement such that her children would retain the right to the throne after King George II?"

After a slight pause, the juror says, "Yes."

"And on the matter of 1-C, was her sole progeny then withdrawn from his candidacy to the throne?"

"Yes."

Ryan lets out a breath he wasn't wholly aware he was holding.

"Number 2," the judge begins. "Was the coronation of Prince Ryan, pursuant to the death of King George II, performed lawfully?"

"Yes."

Ryan manages to resist the urge to cheer, but can't quite manage not to grin at the decision.

"Okay," the judge says. "Is there anything further for the jury?"

The lawyer for the prosecution rises from his seat. "Yes, your honor - can we please poll the jury?"

The judge rolls her eyes, but asks each member of the jury, one by one, the exact same questions, and gets the exact same answers; then, when done with that, asks again if they're all in agreement and gets a yes.

"Okay," the judge says, shuffling through some papers. "Right, there we are, then."

"Thank you, your honor," Suarez says, and eventually the prosecution begrudgingly does the same.

"Then all rise," the judge says. "This concludes the hearing."

Ryan shakes Suarez's hand, and thanks him, smiling and ducking his head a little. Suarez grins back at him, wide and pleased, and Ryan's eyes burn from the flash of cameras. He can already tell this is going to be the photo that graces all the news coverage. Then he turns around and throws an arm over Spencer's shoulders and waves to the court and heads outside and into the crowd of media.

"Your Majesty!" someone shouts. "How are you feeling?"

"Grateful," Ryan says, "that I can get back to ruling the kingdom fulltime."

"Were you surprised at the court's decision? Did it come as a relief?"

"I believe our case was the one with the purest intent and the greatest evidence," Ryan says, "and I trust in Mr Suarez's skill and legal integrity. But yes, I am pleased with the result."

"What do you mean by 'purest intent'?" someone else shouts.

"I am unsure exactly what my uncle meant in dragging up a case about the legal succession which had already been decided," Ryan says. "Clearly the trial was useful in clarifying the legality of the original proceedings, but I don't think it was necessary. I doubt his motives were about the best governance for this kingdom."

"Your Majesty!"

"That's enough, guys," Spencer says. "There'll be a speech and a press conference with the Prince Regent and Mr Suarez later on. If you'll excuse us, we need to get back to the palace. His Majesty has a lot of work to do."

They take a sharp left, and when Ryan looks up, Alex is standing at the car, waiting for them, ignoring the reporters yelling questions at him. There's something hard and fierce and proud in his face that makes Ryan stumble for a moment, and he thinks that it's funny, because he didn't really do anything in the case, not really, Suarez won it, but then he gets closer and Alex throws his arms around Ryan, hard enough that Ryan loses his breath, and Ryan clings onto him just as tight, just for a moment. Then the car door is opened and they get in, and the flash of cameras all around makes Ryan think that maybe there's going to be a different photo used, after all, but he doesn't really care. Spencer and Alex sit close on either side of him, and Ryan lets his head fall back against the seat and laughs, loud and delighted.

"Fuck," he says.

"Nice work," Alex says, voice still fierce and warm, and he leans in and kisses Ryan, off balance, their mouths banging just once, painful but good. Ryan grins at him, feeling sort of bloodthirsty and viciously pleased.

"I'm doubling your security detail," Spencer says, beaming at him, "just in case your uncle is crazy enough to try and kill you."

"He can try," Alex says.

Ryan laughs again. He's just glad, right now, stupidly glad with everything.

"Come on," he says. "Fuck him. Let's go work out how to run the kingdom."

\---

A week later, Ryan's finishing up the day's paperwork when Spencer comes in, knocking on the doorframe to alert Ryan of his presence but not actually waiting for him to say anything.

"Hey, Spence," Ryan says, without looking up. "What's up?"

"Your uncle wants to duel."

"No," Ryan says, signing a sheet of paper and moving on to the next - and final - set of documents.

"No?"

"Seriously," Ryan says, skimming the pages. "What would we even duel over? Everything's legal. That'd be stupid. Like admitting I was wrong."

Spencer laughs. "I thought you wanted the chance for a swordfight."

Ryan looks up, blinking. "I'm not really good at it."

"True," Spencer agrees, his grin showing teeth. "I bet we can have him arrested if he tries to push the matter."

"Ooh." Ryan straightens a little, setting down the sheaf of papers. "You think?"

\---

"Okay," Ryan tells Alex, while fussing over fixing his already-even lapels and collar. He smooths out Alex's tie, which is already lying pretty nicely. Everything he's obsessing over has already been dealt with, but he's possibly a little paranoid. "Okay, that's - good. You look good."

"For once," Alex laughs.

"This is important, shut up," Ryan says.

Alex smiles, eyes dark, and Ryan beams up at him. "Yes, your majesty."

"You ready?"

"Ready to stand around and listen to you give a speech? Sure."

"Hey, now," Ryan says. "You'll get to be grilled by the press afterwards, too. I mean. This is just the proposal and all, but still."

"Important stuff," Alex agrees.

"Presenting the idea to the public properly," Ryan nods. "Now that we've got logistics hashed out. Then it'll go back to Parliament and we'll get a vote and see how it turns out."

"At least a few people are going to think it's a dumb idea, by the way," Alex says. "Just a few."

"A couple."

"Maybe."

Ryan laughs, shaking his head. "Hopefully it won't be the ones we're worried about who hate it most."

\---

"So there's kind of a job coming up," Alex says. Ryan looks up at him. He hadn't even noticed Alex lingering in the doorway to Ryan's office, which makes him feel a little guilty, but Alex doesn't seem displeased.

"A job?" Ryan repeats.

"Kind of a long one," Alex says. "Like, it's far off. It's going to take us a couple of months."

"Oh," Ryan says. He swallows, trying to keep his face calm, and nods. "All right, then."

Alex comes towards him uncertainly. "It's not particularly urgent, so, you know. We're going to hang around until parliament votes, see what's going on. Maybe - maybe when we get back you can come with us. When we leave again."

Ryan breathes in. "Yes," he says, and believes it for a moment. There's a good chance, he thinks. Reception to the speech was fairly good, if a little confused. Ryan stands up and says, "What's the job?"

"An old contact," Alex says, "who apparently doesn't mind that we're not as under the radar as we used to be. He wants an escort for his daughter -- she's going to marry her old sweetheart, but he lives a couple of star systems away now, and her dad wants her to be safe, so."

"Her sweetheart," Ryan repeats, wonderingly, and Alex laughs, perching on top of Ryan's desk.

"That's right," he says.

"You're a romantic hero," Ryan tells him, and Alex nods.

"I get that a lot." He tilts his head, looking at Ryan as if the new angle is going to tell him something different. "That's okay, then?"

"Yes, sure," Ryan says. "I'm not going to - tell you what you can or can't do, man."

"I know," Alex says. "I know you're not."

"And you're waiting until parliament votes, too, right? That's good."

"Yeah," Alex says. "I want to see what happens, dude. Front row seats."

"Oh, obviously." Ryan nods. "Nothing less for the heroes of the realm."

"Right," Alex says. "We're all so fucking privileged, these days. Top quality service or else - temper tantrums all over the place."

"Gosh." Ryan looks at him seriously. "We'll have to avoid that."

"You'd better," Alex says. "You don't want to see Jeff lose it. It's pretty ugly."

"I can only imagine," Ryan says. He bites his lip. "Alex, I - there's stuff I have to do."

"Right, yeah." Alex slides off the edge of Ryan's desk, swipes his hand affably through Ryan's hair. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"Probably," Ryan says, "yeah."

"Cool," Alex says.

When he's at the door, Ryan says, "I'm, I'm going to miss you."

Alex looks back at him.

"When you're gone," Ryan mumbles. "I'm just used to having you around, s'all."

Alex nods, just once, his eyes bright.

\---

The really exciting part about waiting on Parliament to come to a decision is that _Spencer_ gets to make speeches. Ryan finds this hilarious.

"Seriously?" Spencer says. He's been trying to look over his speech, but Ryan keeps laughing.

"You're presenting information," Ryan says, attempting a degree of solemnity. "Before the highest legislative body of the seven stars and dozen worlds, as well as our constituent territories and other colonial holdings."

"Yes," Spencer says slowly. "I am."

"It's great," Ryan says.

"Okay."

"Think about it, Spence."

"I have been."

"No, like, why it's hilarious."

"It's not?"

Ryan sighs, shaking his head. "You just don't appreciate comedy."

Spencer says, "I appreciate comedy at your expense, does that count?"

"Ye -- no," Ryan says. "Because it's not comedy if it's about me. Then it's just -- sedition. And treason. I could have you arrested."

"And then you'd forget where you put your favorite boots, and no one else would remember."

"Alex would remember," Ryan says, a bit huffy.

"When he's not here?" Spencer says.

"Man." Ryan shakes his head. "That's low. You're cold, Spencer Smith."

"Downright chilly, even, yeah." Spencer gets up to clap Ryan on the back. "You'll be all right. You've got too much to do as it is."

"It's hard out there for a prince," Ryan says, then adds, belatedly, "regent."

\---

Ryan sits on his bed while Alex packs his stuff. Most of Alex's gear has migrated to Ryan's room over the past few weeks and Ryan watches Alex go through the closet and try to work out which stuff is his and which is Ryan's and which he should take with him and which he won't ever need once he leaves the palace, and tries not to get too sad about it, because it's only two months, and Alex isn't even gone yet, it's silly that Ryan's getting sad now. He should enjoy things while he can and not get all maudlin for no reason.

Parliament announce the result of their vote tomorrow. Ryan's not too worried about it; polls have been pretty good, and all the individual MPs that Spencer have talked to have been fairly forthcoming and positive. Ryan thinks people are ready for a change. In any case, it's definitely not the scariest result he's awaited this year.

Ryan thinks about how things would be different if his dad was alive. He wonders what his dad would think of all this, if he would think it was Ryan being lazy and unsuitable again.

"Hey," Alex says. He kisses Ryan's knee, and Ryan blinks, because he hasn't noticed Alex coming over to kneel next to him. "Turn your brain off."

"I don't think that's possible," Ryan says. "I kind of need it."

"Nah," Alex says. "Overrated." He points to the cape that's hanging on the wardrobe handle. "Is that mine or yours?"

"Yours," Ryan says, blinking. "You seriously can't tell? It's -- the lining's different."

Alex shrugs.

"It's a different shade," Ryan says, frustrated. "C'mon, Alex, you've got to notice those things. You're not so -- and the material's different, can't you see that?"

"I guess," Alex says.

"You _guess_." Ryan scoffs quietly. "Seriously, it's not that -- just look at it properly, can't you see--"

"Are the things down the bottom different?"

"The what?" Ryan stares at him.

"You know. The bits where they're pulled up a little. With the darker thread."

"The -- the _hems_?" Ryan's voice is thick with disbelief.

"Yeah," Alex says. "Those."

"No, Alex," Ryan says scathingly. "The hems are not different, because hems on a similar garment are usually—." He stops. Alex ducks his head, but not fast enough for Ryan to miss the grin. "You're messing with me."

"Tell me more about hems, Ryan," Alex says, wide-eyed, staring up at him.

"You're such a jerk," Ryan says.

Alex stands up, pushes Ryan lightly until Ryan flops back on the bed. Alex rests his hands on his knees and bends over a little, peering at Ryan. "Stop freaking out about whatever you're freaking out about," he tells Ryan, and goes back to packing.

"I'm freaking out about very important things, I'll have you know," Ryan says.

"Uh-huh," Alex says. "So stop."

"We both have - very important work to do. You know. We're very important."

"Yes, thanks for repeating that," Alex says, laughing a little. "Nice to know I'm important now, too, though. I'm flattered.

"You don't actually have to work, you know."

"I've got an obligation to my crew," Alex says. "Also, I like pretending to be useful from time to time."

"You're useful to me," Ryan says, mildly. He's not actually trying to convince Alex of anything. Nor is he trying to convince himself.

"And I don't want to give up the chance to do jobs for people who still like me in favor of hanging around here all the time, because then I'll never get work again." Alex folds a sweater casually, more balling it up than anything, and Ryan winces for the sake of the fabric. "And anyway. I mean, it's only a couple months. Three at the very longest. I'll be back. My crew are getting kind of bored, I think."

"Jeff's not bored," Ryan says.

"What?"

"I don't know. He keeps talking to me about bird watching. It's kind of creeping me out, actually."

Alex says, "What the fuck? Since when?"

"Like a week ago."

"He'll get tired of it," Alex says, though he sounds a little doubtful. "And anyway, there aren't a lot of birds to watch on the ship."

"There could be," Ryan says. "We could arrange it so there are birds."

"No."

Ryan says, "Maybe I'll officially grant you a - a parrot or something. To take with you on your journeys, as a good luck charm."

"No, Ryan."

"You'd turn down a gift from the highest office in the seven—"

"Yes, I would. We're not having a parrot on my ship."

"What if I gave you a cat?"

"You're not giving me any animals," Alex says.

"I'm pretty sure if I presented one to you in some sort of official capacity, you'd have to take it."

"Or, your loving public would see how very little I care for all the pointless crap you want to give me."

"An animal isn't pointless crap, Alex," Ryan says, primly. "That's life that you're talking about. A life. The wonder of nature."

Alex shoots him a look, and Ryan subsides, grinning.

"When we come back for you," Alex says, "where will we go?"

"What?"

"Where will we go first?" Alex asks. "When you come back onboard. Where do you want to go?"

"Oh," Ryan says. He smiles down at his hands. "I don't know. I guess there will have to be a - a vague itinerary." Alex nods, and Ryan asks, "Does it matter?"

"No," Alex says. He zips his bag shut with an air of finality, then turns around to look at Ryan and smile, crooked and pleased. "It doesn't matter at all."

"Oh, well. Cool. Good to know." Ryan nods a little to himself, and Alex walks over to him, moving slow and intent. Ryan watches him, mouth going a little dry.

"So I'm all packed," Alex says.

"Got everything?"

"Everything," Alex agrees. "And it's getting late. And tomorrow there's parliament, and then we have to leave that afternoon."

"Yes," Ryan says, aiming for haughty. "I know all this."

"Do you," Alex says, amused. "So, I don't know. What were you thinking on doing with the rest of your evening?"

"Oh," Ryan says, "I don't know." He puts his hands on Alex's hips, loops his fingers through the belt loops and pulls him in closer. "I'll work something out, though."

\---

"Guys," Spencer says.

Ryan ignores him. He's busy.

"Look, I'm glad you're happy with the parliament's decision," Spencer says, "but you're going to have to go address the public again soon, let them know what's happening, sooo."

Ryan flips Spencer off without looking at him.

"Ryan," Spencer says, plaintively. "It would be a lot better if you addressed your public without a hickey."

"I've got scarves." Ryan gasps, grip on Alex's hair tightening, Alex's teeth scraping against his throat. Ryan groans, pushing his hips forward.

"Okay," Spencer says, turning on his heel, "I'm going to send someone from Alex's crew in with a bucket of water or something. That should separate you."

"Hm." Ryan sighs a little, turning his head to press his face into Alex's hair. "I'd have you executed."

He feels Alex laugh a little against his neck, even as Alex works a hand up under his shirt, jacket hanging open enough to allow access.

"I'm serious," Spencer calls back over his shoulder.

Alex laughs again, pulling back. "He wouldn't, would he?"

"Probably."

"Probably wouldn't?"

"Oh, no, he's serious," Ryan says. "And then we'd have to address the public sopping wet."

"Beautiful," Alex says, and goes to undo Ryan's top few buttons. He seems - and Ryan supposes rightfully so - a bit wary of actually going anywhere below the waist right now, but it's for the best. Ryan can accept it with grace and poise, and maybe a bit of a whine when Alex presses in close again to kiss him.

"Two _months_ ," Ryan says, a little despairing when they break again. "That's like, eight weeks."

"Sixty days," Alex agrees. "Or possibly longer, depending on the circumstances."

"Ugh," Ryan says, prepared to complain further, but then Alex grinds their hips together and he tips his head back against the wall and closes his eyes instead.

Then, cackling gleefully, Tennessee throws a bucket of ice water at the both of them.

"I told you," Spencer says, loudly. "I warned you, but did you listen?"

"I listened," Ryan says, wiping water out of his face. Alex has stepped away to shake his arms off a bit, then quickly shakes his head, sending water flying.

"Hey!" Tennessee says, jumping back. "Stop that this instant."

"Trying to give orders to your captain?" Alex laughs. "That's a dangerous game you're playing there."

"Spencer," Ryan says, despairing. "Can I at least get a hat?"

"You're going to address the people in a hat and a scarf," Spencer says, dubiously. It's nearly a question, though he seems already resigned to the inevitable answer.

"I am now. Thanks to you."

"Hey, the scarf was your own fault."

"You ruined my hair," Ryan says.

"After the scarf, though."

\---

The speech isn't one of Ryan's best. Apart from the way he looks, he's distracted and a little fidgety and all too aware of how little time he has before Alex has to go, so he sort of rushes through parts and only remembers to slow down when Spencer makes violent gestures at him off to the side. He figures it doesn't really matter, just now. He's got plenty of time, and there will probably be a lot of speeches and press conferences in the coming two months.

For now, he gets through the speech and then comes off the balcony as quickly as possible, shoving his hat and scarf into Spencer's hands and sticking his tongue out at Spencer when Spencer makes affronted noises. He goes to find Alex again, and Alex is checking his watch and sitting with the rest of the crew and looking anxiously over his shoulder.

Ryan makes a disappointed noise. "You have to go."

"Yeah," Alex says, standing and crossing to him. "We're running late."

"Okay," Ryan says, and supposes that's fair, even if he wants to, like. Anyway, he got Alex pretty much all last night -- neither of them got very much sleep -- so he figures he can deal with this now, except for the part where he feels stupid and sad and two months is so very long.

Alex cups his hands around Ryan's face and kisses him again and again, quick and a little dizzying. Ryan grabs onto Alex's forearms to hold himself upright, and spares a tiny part of his mind to be grateful that the rest of the crew aren't making fun of them for once, are just talking quietly amongst themselves, getting ready to go out and board the ship.

"Two months," Ryan says, "and, and then—"

"I'll come back for you," Alex says, nodding, "and, and, you've always got that stupid comm on you—"

"All the time," Ryan agrees, "so if we can, just, whenever you can, whenever you have time."

"Yeah," Alex says, "yeah," and he kisses Ryan again, and Ryan laughs a little, because he feels silly and desperate but it's not like he can help it. He's not entirely sure what he's going to do with Alex gone, and he's just glad there's a deadline, of sorts, there's days he can count down.

"Come here," Alex says, and he pulls Ryan in close, wrapping him in a hug that's so tight Ryan has trouble catching his breath, but he holds on just as hard.

"I'll write you a song," Ryan says, kind of stupidly, when Alex steps back. He puts his hands on Alex's shoulders. "Okay? So you have to - you know, have to come back to listen to it."

"Right," Alex laughs. "I'd better leave so you can work on that."

"Yeah," Ryan says. "Yes, right, obviously. I'll work on it in privacy and dignity. And you can come back when I'm done."

"Will do." Alex gives a jaunty salute, and then a slightly more proper bow. "Well then, your majesty. I'm off."

"Good luck," Ryan says. "And - do your best. I, uh - I'll miss you."

It's a bit cold out, and the driver of the car to the spaceport looks a bit impatient, checking his watch repeatedly. Alex gives him an apologetic smile, and turns back to Ryan just before getting in. "I know."

Ryan feels kind of stupid, because he said a sort of goodbye to the rest of the crew that morning and got hugs, but he has wanted another one, and now they're already driving off because he spent too long hanging onto Alex, or whatever. He takes in a deep breath, and then he turns around and Spencer is there, waiting quiet and kind for him. Ryan takes a step forward, and Spencer gives him a hug, short and warm.

"Want to go start governing the kingdom in preparation for you to head off and leave us all in a couple of months?" Spencer asks.

"Okay," Ryan says. "Let's do that."

\---

When he gets up to his room that night, he gets ready for bed in a mechanical sort of way, because it's lonely, the idea of going to sleep without Alex warm and familiar next to him, and Ryan's pretty sure he just wants to go and not think about anything and just remember that this is temporary and it's not like he can't talk to Alex in the meantime. Alex is coming back for him. Ryan is pretty sure, after all this time, that Alex isn't just fond of Ryan or whatever, and there's something big and important feeling in his chest, shyer than he's used to but there all the same.

He goes and lifts up his pillow to pull the blankets back the way he likes it, and then starts laughing, because Alex's favorite t-shirt is folded there neatly.


End file.
